


Camden Road

by plotbear



Category: K-pop, SHINee, Super Junior
Genre: AU: Prostitution, Alternate Universe, Children's Lit references, Lee Soo Man is an asshole, M/M, Mild S&M, Multi, OT3, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-30
Updated: 2014-08-24
Packaged: 2018-01-27 14:32:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 20
Words: 54,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1714073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plotbear/pseuds/plotbear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Choi Minho knew he was a nobody, a boring man leading a dull, lonely life. That all changed the night he took a waitstaff job at a party as a favor for an old friend and dared to take a look into the depths of the VVIP, encountering the man who would irreparably change his entire world. </p>
<p>Before he knew it he found himself embroiled in a world of dirty money, deified sexual pleasures, and simmering violence.</p>
<p>The most incredible thing of all: in the midst all that insanity were two godlike men who thought /he/ was something amazing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bacchanal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lothkitten](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lothkitten/gifts).



 

Minho dropped off another crate of champagne by the bar, swiftly moving out of the way when the harried bartenders hustled to get it open. One of them pointed to a tray, mouthed “Cabana 4” (no point in talking with music this loud) and Minho dutifully picked it up, praying that the partiers in this one at least had most of their clothes on. He watched the writhing crowd for an opening, but there didn’t seem to be one; this song must be popular or something, he wouldn’t know.

 

Above him, the swiveling lights all flipped to white, and jets of froth floated down to the dance floor below. Clothes flew as people slicked each other’s bodies and frolicked. Minho held his arms over the drinks, fretful.

 

He decided to take a longer way to avoid an accident, which meant walking to the upper level, past VIP, and down a back stairwell to the other side of the massive dancefloor. It was a trek, but better that than spilling or breaking an ankle. Security didn’t look at him twice, his neatly pressed waist-apron and tray of brightly colored glasses gave him an all access pass.

 

As he trekked up the stairs, a building headache had him wondering why he kept letting Nichkyun lead him around by the balls. They had a few trysts under the bleachers at university when Minho was young and desperate. Shouldn’t age grant him the wisdom not to think with his dick? But no, Nichkyun just had to give him that Wink, and Minho was signing his soul away.

 

The door at the top of the stairs was propped open. Minho took a moment to steel his nerves and walk forward. All he had to do was keep his eyes on the floor, there was no sin on the floor, and then he would be safe—

 

“OH. MAH. GAWD!”

 

Minho’s head jerked up on instinct; that was a voice he’d only heard on TV before. Behind a curtain of gold sequins and topaz Swarovski crystals was a man in a black and red sleeveless vest. It displayed the crafted muscles in his crossed arms and hinted at the masterful abs shadowed underneath. Studded belts and swaths of wildly patterned fabric drew attention to a luxuriant pair of hips and a pornstar cock encased by the tightest pair of black leather pants Minho had ever seen; Italian leather boots hugged his calves and feet.

 

His face was a picture of tranquility as the owner of the voice, the ever-fabulous Jo Kwon, fluttered around him like a fashionista butterfly. The celebrity touched him everywhere he could reach, exclaiming how deliciously manly he was, how /beastial/, but the man in black didn’t move.

 

Minho tried to reconnect his brain to his legs and make them move, but they refused, and in his moment of hesitation, the man’s bedroom lidded eyes connected with his. It sent a jolt through Minho that almost made him drop the tray. The electric charge built up in the space of a millisecond; Minho felt every drop of blood in his body turn to liquid fire.

 

The man in black smirked, and it was the only warning he gave before he lashed out with one hand, his ebony nails grabbing Jo Kwon by the back of his hair like a jungle cat pouncing on prey. He was still looking at Minho when he pulled the gangly man in for a soul-stopping kiss.

 

Jo Kwon was too shocked to struggle, but the shorter man must have done something mind-blowing with his tongue, because Jo Kwon made a full body shiver and wrapped his arms around his neck just to stay upright. The hand in his hair pulled back, exposing his neck, and Minho could feel those incredible eyes on him as he ravished the spot under his earlobe. Jo Kwon’s shameless moan was the only thing that saved Minho from fainting like a girl; he still nearly fumbled over his feet as he backed away from the curtain and dashed down the hallway.

 

So entranced by the display, he completely forgot his name, much less why he was even there. When he got to the back hallway he rapidly knocked back 3 of the remaining flutes of champagne in one shot. Minho hastily untied his apron and took it off. He sat down on the step before his legs gave out on him completely.The booming music and flashing lights provided excellent cover for his hitched breaths and shameless moaning. If someone caught him here, furiously stroking his cock over a stranger, he’d be so dead. He came so hard, so fast, he really couldn’t dredge up the will to care.

 

~8~8~8~8~8~

 

A scant number of days later, Minho stood in front of a rowhouse door, apple seeds clutched in his hands and fear rising up from the pit of his stomach to claw at his throat. A half-hour bus ride and three shots of whiskey at the bar on the corner later, he was now actually staring at the infamous #12 Camden Road. All of his liquid courage disappeared as he raised his hand to the door.

 

He knocked once, twice, and the heavy cedar door opened, spilling amber light out into the darkness. Onew greeted him with a pleasant smile; his beige silk knit sweater and dark dress slacks came as an honest surprise to the younger man on the doorstep. Minho worked to not let his surprise reach his features. Although when he first saw him, Minho could only catch scant glimpses of Onew through a beaded curtain, he was still expecting something a bit more…risqué. The mere memory of the man he saw at the party wrapped in supple leather and silk was enough to make him shiver.

 

“Hi—wow, it’s freezing out there, come in! Let me take your coat, head right on in to the sitting room and I’ll be right with you. Can I get you anything, hot chocolate-no, you’re a coffee kind of guy, I can tell.”

 

Minho slipped off his boots and slid into a plush pair of house shoes. Onew’s voice trailed off into the vaulted ceilings as Minho took in his surroundings. The foyer alone was nearly bigger than his studio flat and as he stumbled along behind Onew down a brief hallway he caught glimpses of expensive art lining the walls. They then turned into a sitting room, with soft hues of beige, grey and cream that strode a delicate balance balance between vast and spaciously comfortable.

 

“Sit, please.” The hand that gently pressed to Minho’s lower back his lower back, sent tingles up his spine as he was guided to a leather upholstered chair and gingerly sat on the edge. Onew puttered about pouring two fragrant cups of coffee from a silver carafe perched on a mirrored tray atop a ebony sideboard. “That’s better. You have something for me?”

 

The pleasant smile never wavered, it remained as warm and inviting as the crackling fireplace. Minho nodded, placing the three seeds in Onew’s outstretched hand. Onew didn’t look at them once; all of his focus remained on Minho.

 

“This is the last stop, you know.” The bright tone in the older man’s voice shifted, threads of sincere concern radiating from every word. “If you feel that you’ve changed your mind, or you simply aren’t comfortable, then cancellation is still an option.” Minho shook his head quickly, adjusting his glasses and forcing himself to look Onew in the eye. It seemed to be a sufficient reply.

 

“I’m happy to hear that.” Onew’s smile flashed spotlight bright and it made Minho’s heart skip a beat. “As agreed when you spoke with Jjong, you are going to receive a /significant/ discount on the fee for this evening. In exchange, my apprentice Taemin will be joining us as part of his final exam training.” Minho wiped his hands on his jeans, suddenly feeling the shameful weight of his secondhand shoes and threadbare suit jacket. “Did you have any questions? Feel free to ask.”

 

Minho took a shaky sip of coffee while he tried to collect his scattered thoughts. “If…if I don’t do well, will your apprentice get penalized?”

 

That wasn’t what he actually wanted to ask; there were so many better questions to put forth, but he balked at the last second and that was the safest. Onew looked genuinely surprised; he laughed in a way that showed off his dimples and made Minho want to kiss him.

 

“No, not at all! This is training, after all, a mistake now and then is expected. On top of that, he has to learn how to prepare and compensate for anything that might come up. Not all of our clients are going to be as stunning as you.” Minho balked a little, but Onew’s expression was completely open and honest. He willed his heart to slow down; that was probably a standard line for someone in this industry. Just because Onew said it with a delighted twinkle in his eye didn’t make it true, no matter how much Minho wanted to believe it.

 

Onew held out a hand and Minho took it without question. Onew’s grip was firm enough to be comforting, but Minho still felt a slow ripple of tension in his chest. They walked down a flight of French marble stairs to a long hallway filled with large double doors. Onew took him to the end of the hall and gave his hand a squeeze.

 

“Taemin is waiting in there with your bath. When you’re finished, he’ll lead you into the bedroom.” Minho let go of his hand with a surprising reluctance, but he nodded solemnly and watched Onew walk away. There was no sensual sway to his hips, no trick to draw the eye and keep it there, but there was something so easygoing and engaging about him that Minho couldn’t look away. How could this possibly be the same black leather god that brought the notoriously promiscuous Jo Kwon to his knees with just one kiss?

 

The doors opened up to a bath with a sunken tub large enough to swim in, filled with steaming water and orange blossom petals. A long padded table surrounded by smoked glass cabinets was off to the right, and Minho spied Egyptian cotton towels stacked on a stand by the tub. Barely audible music came from hidden speakers in the walls, a classical piece of some kind that Minho couldn’t identify. Shining proof of just what money could buy.

 

A connecting door on the other side of the room opened soundlessly, and a young man with a platter of fruits stepped in. He was nearly as tall as Minho, with a firmly toned body that said he was still growing but working hard on his muscles. Lustrous golden-brown hair framed an impishly pretty face and brushed his collarbone, a winding trail of painted vines spiraled around his chest and down to his belly button, stopping at the waistband of his lacey forest-green harem pants. His only jewelry was a piece of green ribbon with a brass stud in the middle that encircled his neck, and thin black eyeliner made his eyes kitten-like and entrancing.

 

“Hello, I’m Taemin. I’ll be serving you today.” Minho blinked slowly, opened his mouth to respond, and was mortified to discover that the concept of language had escaped him completely. This didn’t bother Taemin in the least; in fact, he struggled against a grin as he placed the fruit by the side of the tub. “I’ll fold your clothes and take your glasses for you while you bathe. Take as long as you like in the tub, there’s no rush. Oh! And if you like there is a switch for jets, right there.”

 

Minho stripped quickly, sinking into the water and closing his eyes as he submerged his entire body. It was hard to believe that this is how the rich really lived, that places like this were a mundane part of their lives. He didn’t allow himself to dwell for long: the water was hot enough to ease the tension out of his body, and for right now he had the right to ignore the outside world.

 

“Do you like apples?” Minho opened his eyes to discover Taemin lounging by the rim of the tub. He nodded, not trusting himself to speak, and lifted a hand out of the water to receive the fruit. But Taemin quirked his head and picked up the knife on the tray. Minho watched as he skillfully peeled the apple in one continuous coil and sliced it into even pieces.

 

Taemin plucked a piece from the tray with long, graceful fingers and held it up to Minho’s mouth to eat, looking pleased when the older man took a healthy bite. It was the same with the next one, and by the time they got to the third Minho was actually smiling along with him.

 

The fourth piece, however, Taemin deftly placed between his lips, leaned down, and waited. It took a second, but Minho closed the distance, sinking his teeth into the crisp flesh and lightly licking the juice from Taemin’s lower lip. This continued until the apple was gone. Minho wasn’t sure what made him dizzier: the heady citrus steam, Taemin’s coquettish kisses, or his own spiking arousal.

 

When the bath was over, Taemin dried him with those heavenly towels, laid him out on the massage table, and rubbed him down from head to toe with oil that smelled of cloves and sandalwood. Minho never felt so relaxed in his life; he turned into clay under Taemin’s talented hands. If this guy was just an apprentice, then he had to be getting top marks. He needed help getting to his feet afterwards, and as Taemin dressed him in a burgundy satin robe Minho got caught gawking again.

 

“Sorry.”

 

“For what? Staring? I don’t mind, it makes me happy.”

 

“You’re…you’re really…good.”

 

Taemin chuckled, but he quickly covered it up. “Follow me please.”

 

Taemin lead him to another set of doors, subtly correcting his posture as he opened them. The room was dimly lit, encompassing a low, circular bed piled with plump pillows. Minho knew they were below ground, but there was a sharp, green scent in the air, like a jungle after the rain. He could feel more than hear the music being pumped in, something with heavy beats and a throbbing base that shot from the soles of his feet to his brain and promptly down to his groin.

 

Lying in the middle of it all, like a warrior-poet king lounging on a throne, was Onew. Butter-soft black leather lovingly encased his thick, firm legs and tapered off at his bare feet; kohl transformed his gentle eyes into windows of utter sensuality. He didn’t smile when they entered the room, but the drag of his gaze over Minho’s body said more than enough. Minho wavered on his feet from getting so hard so fast. That black leather god wasn’t his imagination after all.

 

“Close the door.” Taemin hurried to do as he was told and promptly returned to Minho’s side. He placed a hand on Minho’s lower back, guiding him towards the bed and keeping it there when they reached the edge. “What did you learn during the preparation process, Taemin?” Minho blinked; Taemin poked the tip of his tongue out as he thought carefully about his answer.

 

“Yes, sir. He’s not used to being pampered or having his every whim catered to. I noticed that he acted like he didn’t want to mess anything up, and he even tried to fold up his towel when he got out.”

 

“You could get that from his profile. Try a little harder.” The rebuke was firm but not unkind. It fully hit Minho that he was actually part of a lesson; it took the sting out of being analyzed so completely.

 

“He’s never been in a relationship with a man before. Sex, more than likely, but the kind that comes in locker rooms and hidden places.” Minho jerked in surprise, a combination of how close on the mark the trainee was mixed with the slide of his hand roving over his ass. “He kept stealing glances at me and checking the door, sir, as if someone would come in and catch us. He likes kisses, but he was hungry for them, which says he doesn’t get them often. Also, he looked at the far wall when I dried him off, and kept his hands clenched at his sides.”

 

“Is he right, Minho?”

 

“…yes.”

 

“He really has no idea how sexy he is.” Taemin slipped his arms around Minho, undoing the knot and allowing the fabric to pool down to Minho’s waist. Onew made an appreciative hum that made Minho hold his breath. He let it out in a quick huff when he felt Taemin kiss his shoulderblade. “He’s the swan that still thinks he’s an ugly duckling. He needs to be treasured, to get what he wants when he wants it for once.”

 

“And what do you think he wants?”

 

“Mmm…from the way he’s been staring, sir, I think he wants very badly to worship your cock.” Minho’s eyes went wide as a blush crept down from his face all the way down to his neck. Taemin rubbed small circles against his spine, but Minho quivered nonetheless.

 

Onew’s face gave nothing away, but he spread his legs and beckoned to Minho with one black-nailed finger, and that was all it took to have Minho falling on the bed and crawling toward him like a shot. He didn’t care if he looked stupid or desperate, he *was* desperate, and he was finally getting to the place he’d fantasized about for three whole weeks.

 

The crotch of Onew’s pants were laced up; Minho pressed his face against it, marveling in the heat he could feel even now. He ran his tongue up each and every zig-zagged leather strip holding it closed, until he could finally tug the knot at the top undone with his teeth and pull them out one by one. Onew made a hum of approval, running his blunt fingers through Minho’s shaggy curls.

 

“Well done, Taemin. You should be proud.”

 

“Thank you sir.”

 

Onew allowed Minho to move the fabric aside and lift him out with a bemused expression as Minho discovered just what he’d be dealing with. But after the initial shock, Minho held Onew’s cock in his hands like it was some kind of holy relic. It was bigger than the (admittedly few) Minho’d ever seen in real life, and the man was only half hard. Without thinking, Minho took the head in his mouth and slid it to the back of his throat, indulging in the amazing weight and texture of it. To his credit, Onew didn’t pull his hair or force his head down. There was no cursing, no hiss to hurry up, only fingers running over his scalp in ways that made his whole body tingle.

 

“Taemin, you should attend to our guest.” Onew’s voice still had the infinite patience of a good teacher, even when glazed over with lust. Taemin snapped out of his haze and quickly complied, running over to a cabinet and rummaging through it until he found what he was looking for. He returned to the bed, holding up a bottle for Onew’s approval. Onew nodded, sneaking him a thumbs up, and the trainee beamed at him.

 

Taemin carefully put a hand on Minho’s ass, indulging in just how firm it was before he playfully kissed a heart shape on the left side. Onew raised an eyebrow at him, but Taemin just gave him a cute smile in response. He opened the bottle and dribbled a little of the oil between Minho’s cheeks, listening for the change in breathing to signal that this was alright. Minho gave the smallest whine; Taemin would’ve missed it if he hadn’t paid attention. That was his cue to spread Minho open and lick the almond oil that lingered there, curling the tip of his tongue into his entrance to make sure he got every drop.

 

Minho’s breath came in short, harsh bursts, ghosting over Onew’s skin alongside the rivulets of drool from Minho’s overstuffed mouth. Onew slowly pulled Minho away, his lips curling up when his cock twitched toward his stomach. A frown of distress flickered over Minho’s face, and Onew smoothed it away with tender brushes of his thumbs. Minho looked him in the eye, searching for signs of disappointment in his oral skills. To his amazement, there was only deep and heady desire.

 

“Do you have a problem if Taemin goes first?” Onew held Minho’s face in his hands, his voice on the warm side of neutral. Behind him, Minho heard a tiny squeak quickly covered by a discreet cough. Minho tried to figure out what his answer was supposed to be from Onew’s body language, but the man remained frustratingly blank. It truly was his choice, and these two figments of his wildest imagination would comply to his wish.

 

“Yes. I mean, I’d like that.” Those simple words left Minho reeling, his chest opened wide to expose his every vulnerability. Onew watched him like a hawk, and when he was convinced that Minho was being honest, he pulled the taller man close.

 

Just when Minho thought he couldn’t be any more surprised tonight, Onew kissed him like a reunited lover, holding him in his arms and playing invisible arpeggios down his spine. Minho dazedly thought that he kissed like opera, like a channel to something grandiose and divine, and all he could do was receive as much of it as he could handle.

 

Minho could feel his mind beginning to short circuit, all of his sensory perception narrowed down to the plump softness of Onew’s lips contrasting with the unyielding firmness of his tongue. It was the self-assured probe of Taemin’s oiled finger that reeled him back to reality, and what a glorious descent it was.

 

“I wish I could hear your voice.” Taemin slid up his back, his lace providing a delicious countermelody to Onew’s leather. Although the pants were still on, Minho could feel the scorching heaviness of his naked cock on his lower spine. “You’ve been so quiet this whole time. I almost received a failing grade because of you. When you actually spoke, your voice was so damn sexy I nearly jumped you.”

 

He purred in Minho’s ear, slipping in a second finger and leering at the vice-like heat. “You don’t have to be scared here. If I could hear you cry out when Sir fucks you, oh God, that would be the best.” Taemin didn’t expect a verbal answer, but the way Minho bucked back on his fingers told him all he needed to know.

 

Strangely, Taemin had a bit of trouble getting the condom on. Doing it with one hand should’ve been second nature by now; he’d practiced so often that his dorm-mate Kevin threatened to castrate him if he stepped on one more discarded wrapper. But the sudden pressure of the task in front of him had his hands shaking. Onew was one of the nicest trainers around, but he was still a stickler for perfection. Taemin counted to five, regained his composure, and got it on just as neatly as rehearsal.

 

Tonight wasn’t his final, but it still felt like he was being tested; it was a perfectly sound reason for why his heart started beating double-time. He didn’t dare look to Onew for guidance; Taemin’s job was to be an opening act so to speak (he would giggle over that, but not until much later) so he had to perform to the best of his ability.

 

This was a clear sign of Onew’s faith in his abilities, and on top of that, there was something about this shy, eccentric Minho that made Taemin want to make him happy. He wanted to kiss those stress knots in his back away forever, to make him sweat the cruelty of the world out from his skin and have it never come back. And when he moved inside of him, Taemin couldn’t help but wonder if he could give him the gift of bliss, if only for a short time. Perhaps that was the lesson Onew meant for him to learn; Taemin looked at the older at last. His eyes were mostly shut, but his strong hand laced with his in the middle of Minho’s back and held it tight.

 

The three of them moved in tandem, Onew carrying both their weight, kissing Minho senseless, while Taemin pressed into him with slow ocean rolls of his hips. Minho felt like a phoenix: Taemin would destroy him in a brilliant blaze of fire, and Onew would resurrect him all over again. There was no such thing as time now, only the infinite loop of their rhythm rebounding on itself. And just as he started it, Onew was the one to break it.

 

“Switch.” Minho gasped as Taemin pulled away from him, feeling like a tightrope walker that just had a dizzy spell. The younger man turned Minho around and pulled him up on his knees with admirable strength, whispering calming nonsense while Onew deftly got ready. Minho couldn’t tell which way was up or down; sex had never been like this before, it was foreign to experience such benevolence mixed within the act, and he had no idea what he was supposed to do now--

 

“Sshhh.” Onew kissed Minho’s jugular, taking note of his heart-rate and the fact that his skin still smelled like cloves and sandalwood. As he eased the taller man ever so carefully down on his cock, Onew experienced something he hadn’t in years: a fleeting wish that the session would never end. It gave him pause, but Taemin was watching his every move. He couldn’t be sentimental Jinki right now, no matter how much it rattled in his skull.

 

But then this man, this echo of his younger self, this Choi Minho had to shuffle through his door and shake up all the hard work and suffering Onew put himself through to get to the top. He was number one in the district, and Leetuek himself offered to promote him to right hand man whenever he wanted to stop teaching.

 

Yet somehow, the distinct line between who he was in and out of the bedroom was blurring with every trembling moan Minho made. On the other hand, there was his talented Taemin, looking up to him because he was so steadfast in his belief of working hard and following the rules. There had to be a way to reconcile this, and he had to think fast, because his iron-clad control was slipping.

 

From over Minho’s shoulder, Onew motioned to Taemin to rejoin them. The boy had done exactly what was expected of him; he waited off to the side for dismissal even though he was aching with need. His eyes widened comically, but he maintained a sense of grace as he settled in front of Minho.

 

Onew stopped, letting Minho catch his breath for a moment, then turned his head to face the wall-length mirror that ran along the other side of the room. When he was sure that both Minho and Taemin were looking at the three of them in the mirror, Onew wrapped his large hand around their cocks, trapping them both in his grip.

 

“Oh love! Nymph, perfect, divine,” [*]

 

He thrust, stroked them as one, delighting in the beautiful tears that escaped Minho’s eyes and the awe that shone from Taemin’s.

 

“To what, my love, shall I compare thyne eye?”

 

It was Jinki that lead this harmony of flesh, speaking out through Onew’s mouth, a unique occurrence.

 

“Crystal is muddy. Oh! how ripe in show thy lips, those kissing cherries, tempting grow.”

 

Minho saw himself, entwined with a dark god and a sexual fairy tale, beautifully wrecked and glorious.

 

“O! let me kiss this hand of pure white, this seal of bliss.”

 

Taemin threw his arms around Minho, lost himself in Onew’s touch, quivered in the true face of his profession.

 

When Minho came, it was with a roar that Taemin would never forget as long as he lived. He couldn’t stop touching and kissing him everywhere he could reach, even the midst of his own long, bed-shaking orgasm. Onew held out until they were both finished, finally allowing himself release with an oddly melodic moan. Like the true professional he was, Onew was on his feet in less than a minute, pulling over the rolling cart with hot towels to gently clean Minho up.

 

“Taemin.” The trainee bolted up from where he was tucking pillows under Minho’s head and caught the towel thrown to him gratefully. “Recite to me what the Guide has to say about infatuation please.” Onew wiped Minho down as though he were made of porcelain, helping him fall into a light doze. Taemin gulped; wondering if he somehow gave himself away during the lesson.

 

“Page 12, Section 4: ‘I am the canvas, I am not the brush. My only desire is to embody what the client desires, and in this I shall become Desire. To bring my wants into a session pollutes my mind and clouds me from that which is Truth, rendering me unfit to provide service.’ Did I mess up?”

 

“You did very well.” Onew brushed a sweaty curl away from Minho’s face, turning to his trainee with a wistful smile.

 

“One thing you’ll learn is that sometimes even seasoned pros need to go over the basics now and again.”

 


	2. Hands On Teaching Method

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taemin still has a lot to learn before he officially becomes one of the Deva; fortunately he has a very good (and very patient) teacher willing to go to whatever lengths nessicary to get him the training he needs.

“We’re going to do some trust exercises today.” Onew was mid stretch when Taemin opened the door to the studio, skin taut where it pulled against his muscles. Taemin bounced on the balls of his feet, shaking out his limbs in preparation. Maybe today would be the day he finally got a taste of his mentor; the weeks of fleeting touches and frenzied daydreams were driving him up the wall.

 

Perhaps they’d do that thing where Taemin had to fall backwards into Onew’s arms, trusting that the older man would catch him before he could hit the ground. That would be a lot of fun, especially since Onew liked to work in nothing but thin, lightweight trousers.

 

Onew fiddled with a few buttons on the stereo, filling the room with a song Taemin didn’t recognize. It was dreamy and sensual, the kind of song you played while making out on a couch somewhere after a second date. Taemin grinned. Today was going to be a great class, he could already tell. Onew straightened up, a satisfied smile on his face as he held his hand out towards Taemin. The younger man practically sprang towards him, vibrating with excitement.

 

“The first step: if you would let me tie this on, please.” Onew held up a shimmering length of shell-colored silk. Taemin blinked at it and nodded, taking a step closer without hesitation. Onew brought the silk up to his face and tied it securely around his eyes. The ends brushed teasingly along the top of his spine, making him roll his shoulders involuntarily.

 

“Good.” Onew’s voice dropped lower than the music, but Taemin didn’t have to strain to hear him at all since they were close enough to share body heat. “I’m going to take you in my arms, like this, and we’re going to slow dance. I know you’re used to leading, but in this exercise, I’ll need you to trust me to lead you without being able to see. Do you understand?”

 

“Yes, Sir.” Taemin nodded, slightly disappointed that it wasn’t going to be more of a challenge. He was a natural born dancer, after all; something like this was bound to be effortless. Onew entwined their hands and slid an arm around Taemin’s waist, bringing them chest to chest, hip to hip. Taemin didn’t bother hiding the delighted shiver that ripped over his skin.

 

“Then let’s begin.” Taemin thought he could hear the traces of a smile in Onew’s voice, but he couldn’t be sure. He felt Onew’s right foot slide forward, so he moved his left foot back. Onew swayed forward, so Taemin dipped back. Perfectly natural movements that required a minimal amount of conscious thought.

 

He drifted off, soaking in the opulence of Onew’s body against his. Taemin rested his head in the sweep between Onew’s neck and shoulder, wondering how his mentor would react if he boldly planted a kiss there. However, they suddenly stopped moving, and Onew pulled away slightly to speak directly into Taemin’s ear.

 

“You’re trying to lead.” Taemin sputtered, but when he took mental stock of how his body was positioned, he quickly realized that Onew was right. He dropped his head, counted to three, and lifted it to apologize for his mistake. Onew just repositioned his arm around Taemin’s waist, rubbing a thumb against a tensed muscle in a silent order to relax.

 

The exercise turned out to be a lot harder than he thought: whenever he slipped into the natural instinct to lead, Onew stopped without a word, let Taemin mentally chastise himself, and then silently resumed the dance. It seemed to take forever, but Taemin finally realized that pushing closer to Onew and letting him manipulate their bodies through space freely meant that Taemin got to experience something entirely new.  

 

“I don’t know where you’re taking me, but getting there’s a lot of fun.” Taemin frowned, and then broke out into a bubbly laugh when he realized that he said that out loud. He was rewarded with a hearty chuckle from Onew (and what a glorious feeling, the way his chest vibrated and stomach muscles contracted when he laughed).

 

“That’s the general idea. Well done, Taemin.” He didn’t have to see to know that Onew was smiling with his entire face in that goofy but endearing way of his. His left arm was lifted up, and he spun without a second thought, coming back into the circle of Onew’s arms gracefully. A slight pressure at the small of his back signaled for him to lean back into a dip, and when he did, Onew was right there to hold him aloft.

  
~8~8~8~8~8~  
  


“I can still see Taemin lurking around the edges. Let’s try it again, from the top.” Onew stretched, admonishing his pupil with all the patience of a mountain. Taemin groaned and wiped his hands on his pants, letting the ethereal cream linen wipe away the traces of sweat on his palms. They’d been at this exercise for nearly an hour, and Taemin still couldn’t seem to get the hang of it no matter how hard he tried.

 

“You’re frustrated, I know.” Onew came up behind him, rubbing a knot of tension out of the younger man’s shoulders. “But this isn’t something that can be picked up easily. Your other trainers are drilling you in the art of applying your own personal sense of style on everything you do. And that’s important in this line of work. What I’m doing here is going against everything else you are being taught, but it is just as important. Without a shield, an ability to separate who you are from what you are doing, you won’t survive. Do you understand?”

 

“Yes. I understand, Sir.” Taemin struggled to release the expression of childish irritation from his face. The mirror in front of them reflected a picture he didn’t like: teacher and student, both dressed only in flowing white pants, feet bare. But where Onew was an earthy mix of soft planes and solid muscle, Taemin was greyhound lean and lacking in his own eyes; a man-child standing in front of a bastion of masculinity.  

 

Onew smiled at him and gave him a hearty smack on the shoulder. “It will come. I promise. You’re doing very well. “

 

“It doesn’t feel like it.”

 

“That’s only because this is the first time you’ve ever faced a real challenge.” Taemin whirled around in shock, but Onew already had his back turned as he made his way back to his seat. “Ok Taemin. Take up the neutral position, please.”

 

Taemin immediately started arranging his body from the top down: first he mentally attatched a string from the crown of his skull to the ceiling, letting it pull up his head and lengthen his spine. His shoulders dropped and relaxed, his breathing evened out, hips dropped back slightly, and he allowed the subconscious tension in his ass, thighs, and calves to melt away. In a matter of seconds, he reached a place that would allow him to move into any position with a minimum of effort.

 

“Very good! From this place, please recreate ‘The Thinker’ statue.” Taemin slowly and carefully balanced himself, settling into the famous position and hardening his muscles until he could flick his eyes to the mirror and see that he’d become a living replica. He held his breath, exhaling as subtly as possible and inhaling so that his chest muscles didn’t move.

 

“Wonderful. And return to neutral. Now upper body: The ‘Mona Lisa’. Keep the image of that enigmatic smile, the slight tilt of the head, the depths of the eyes. Remember, I don’t want a forgery, I want you to become her. What is she thinking about? What is stirring in her head? Watch your eyebrows-ah. Well done. Hold. Hold. And return to neutral.”

 

Taemin could feel sweat rolling down the length of his spine from his efforts, and they hadn’t even reached his stumbling block yet. His eyes caught with Onew’s in the mirror; the naked pride he saw shining there quashed any complaints that burned the edges of his tongue.

 

“From here, I want you to become a panther. Think about this one carefully. What is the difference between a panther and a house cat? Take your time. I don’t want to see Taemin acting like a panther, I want to see a panther that happens to be inhabiting a human skin.” Onew’s words were firm, stopping Taemin from giving in to the temptation of simply dropping to all fours and twining between his legs with a sensual purr like he wanted. It wouldn’t stop the lesson, anyway, not when Onew was so set in having him perfect it.

 

“Reflect on where they live. Greenery is all around you, the air nearly dripping with moisture and sweltering heat. What can you smell?” Taemin let Onew’s voice wash over him, closing his eyes until the studio disappeared. He just had to lock the essence of himself away in a safe place, a bead of opaque crystal that spun serenely in the back of his mind. It would leave the rest of his heart and soul receptive to instruction and shaping.

 

With a glacial slowness, Taemin dropped to all fours, curling his fingers inwards to touch the top of his palm. He shifted his weight, searching for a fair distribution between his upper and lower body. Phantom traces of an undulating tail and twitching ears settled over him; he lowered himself onto his belly, imagining sleek fur the only barrier between him and the floor.

 

When he opened his eyes again, the room was dark. But it wasn’t the studio, it was the riverside, he could hear water to the left, teeming with the fish that would make his next meal. He rose to his feet and walked forward, two hundred pounds of svelte muscle designed to kill. There wasn’t a single movement wasted as he began his journey, and he kept his head high and eyes sharp as the darkness enveloped him.

 

A rustling sound snagged the edges of his hearing and he froze, all concentration primed towards finding the source. Was it prey, a mere branch shifting in the breeze? Taemin lowered his paw noiselessly and sniffed the air. A low snarl pulsated from his chest, a warning to the creature he could sense but not see. Behind him, there it was again, not prey, something large, dangerous. He slunk low, coiled, pulling himself onto higher ground.

 

Wait.

 

Wait.

 

**_Wait_**.

 

Crouch.

 

Wait.

 

He leapt from his perch, knocking over his target and tumbling in a fierce roll of teeth and claw. The thing he fought was bigger, heavier, but it did not matter. He was young and strong, his teeth were sharp, and he was hungry-

 

“Come back to me, Taemin”

 

-just had to clamp down on the neck and it would be done. He would be safe and-

 

“Taemin. Come back now. I need you to let go, I need Taemin back.”

 

Words resonated in him, distant and silver bell sweet, tugging on that crystallized part of him tucked away. Little by little he lost the imaginary senses and returned to his own world: the low hum of the air conditioner, the sticky places where sweat caused his pants to stick to his skin, the gentle throb of Onew’s neck under his teeth.

 

It was so disorienting that it brought unbidden tears to his eyes and a huge grin to his mouth, but Onew stayed right there beneath him, petting his back in long, sweeping strokes and just letting him cry as much as he liked.

 

“You did so well.” Onew kissed him on the forehead, his breathing a steady and calming presence against Taemin’s stomach. “I knew you would. It was only a matter of time.”

 

Taemin found himself lost for words. Finding a place that deep and true scared the shit out of him and left him craving more, sending adrenaline shooting through his body like he just stepped off the world’s largest roller coaster. He locked gazes with Onew, not allowing himself to blink or wipe his eyes. He wanted to be kissed so badly that he wondered if he’d gone temporarily obsessive over it.

 

To his profound relief, Onew understood and finally, finally gave in, pressing their lips together in a gesture so surprisingly tender that Taemin found himself falling apart all over again. It could almost be considered chaste, a mellow meeting of mouths with no other agenda but experiencing the plushness between them.

 

It seemed like hours before Onew parted his lips; Taemin mirrored him exactly and thrilled to hear a delicate moan come from his mentor’s throat. When Onew’s tongue slid forward, boldly exploring the roof of Taemin’s mouth, Taemin completed the tango, biting down on Onew’s lip with the utmost tenderness. And for a moment there was nothing else but Onew: he was the earth beneath him, the air around him, stars orbited in his eyes and his touch was divinity.

 

Taemin felt like a light flared to life in his brain: this is what it meant to be a Deva. This is what that book tried and ultimately failed to explain. It was here in that suspended stretch of time, it was his future.

 

For the first time since he was thirteen, he faced the idea of tomorrow with bravery, knowing that Onew would guide him there.

 

 


	3. Fly Higher, The Sun's So Pleasant Today

Minho recalled why he hated airports as soon as he walked through the sliding glass doors. The terminal was packed with people, rushing, squabbling; some running to greet loved ones while others simply ran away. He wove his way into the throng, rolling his suitcase behind him as he tightened his grip on his briefcase.

 

It saddened him to realize that the first time he would travel out of the country in his entire life was for a business trip. Until now he never saw the point. The only people he knew or cared to know were here, and it wasn’t like any of them would think to invite Wallflower Choi. After that night, the one that still haunted him two months later, Minho’s perceptions were beginning to change. Even now, while the conveyor belt took his luggage away, he could faintly taste the duality of fresh snow and apple on his tongue.

 

The two of them ruined him, and he couldn’t even manage to hate them properly.

 

Minho tried everything he could think of to move on. Drinking only made him melancholy, and exercise wasn’t enough of a distraction. When Changmin called him at 2am one night to “y’know, hang out for a while”, he took a cab across town in sheer desperation. But all Minho could manage to do was lie there and let himself be used. He didn’t know what made him feel worse: the fact that he could only get half hard, or the fact that Changmin didn’t care one way or the other.

 

Only the unrelenting banality of work held the specter of that encounter at bay. Since going home to his apartment just meant sitting in the dark and staring at the ceiling, Minho threw himself into taking crazy hours. The lazy idiots on his team didn’t mind sliding half their workload to him, and crunching numbers didn’t allow room for anything else.

 

Minho got the last laugh; he spotted a string of account errors that ended up costing the company a cool seven million. The shitstorm that flared when he brought this to upper management was the reason he was about to catch a plane to Thailand, where he’d spend three days locked in a stuffy office comparing figures with the Head of Finance.

 

But hey, it was a free first class trip, and perhaps the balmy breezes would shake the last of this ridiculous obsession away. Minho settled into his seat, marveling at the way the plush blue leather reclined out so far that the chair turned into a bed.

 

It was like sitting in a private little nest where he could ignore the scant other passengers in his section if he liked. After the plane took off, there was no reason why he couldn’t take a quick nap. It sounded like a fine idea, so once he diligently listened to the pretty flight attendant’s instructions, Minho let his head fall back and his eyes slide shut.

 

If he stayed awake just a few minutes longer, he would’ve seen Taemin coming back from the restroom.

 

~8~8~8~8~8~

 

“HE’S HERE!”

 

Onew looked up from his e-reader in bewilderment. Taemin hadn’t exactly screamed, but he enunciated through tightly clenched teeth, and the grip he had on Onew’s arm might leave bruises. Onew pried his apprentice off of him with a pained chuckle.

 

“He who? Heechul? He said he was going to take the private jet with--”

 

“No, not him!” Taemin gave an involuntary shiver at the mere mention of that name. “HIM him. The Ugly Duckling!” The young man blushed, and Onew was suddenly glad he was sitting down. “I’m serious, on my way back I saw him taking a nap over there on the right side.”

 

“Ah. That’s nice.” Onew smiled pleasantly, as though they were discussing the outcome of a tennis match. “Did you decide what you want for lunch? For a commercial airline, the menu looked fairly tasty.” He didn’t miss the way Taemin’s face fell, or the body language that suggested a struggle against full-fledged sulking.

 

Onew put a hand on his knee, giving it a consolatory squeeze. It was all the comfort he could offer just then; rules were rules for a reason. While it was fine for the two of them to gush over the former customer in private under the guise of lesson review, mentioning him in public was a major foul. And it wasn’t like they could simply walk up to the man and say hello. It would be breaking the fine line between streets and sheets, an error Taemin certainly couldn’t afford.

 

The last couple months were a flurry of activity as Onew juggled getting Taemin ready for his final along with his own work. There was only one hiccup, one reoccurring thought that stuck in his mind like a blackberry seed between his teeth. It came wrapped in pretty packaging: a long graceful neck blessed with two Adam’s apples, huge brown eyes framed in lashes to make a model jealous, and a body that bloomed under his touch like a wildflower under the early light of dawn.

 

To his credit, Onew made it a whole hour before he excused himself to the restroom. He could feel Taemin’s eyes on him all the way to the front of the plane, but he gave nothing away. Deliberately walking back on the right was immature and unbecoming, which is why he only snuck a peek around the corner. Just in case Taemin was mistaken and causing a fuss for no reason.

 

Minho sat in the second seat back, soundly sleeping with the chair still in the upright position. He looked thinner than before, pale and exhausted with bags under his eyes that suggested a lack of proper rest. Onew caught himself frowning with only a mild sense of surprise. Weeks of wondering how Minho was faring turned out not to be a fluke after all.

 

“Excuse me? My friend, Minho, yes the gentleman right here, could you recline his seat for him, maybe bring him an extra pillow? He’s prone to stiff shoulders…yes thank you. Oh also? Have someone bring him a coffee if he wakes up, Americano, two sugars. Thank you so much.”

 

~8~8~8~8~8~

 

Taemin hardly winced anymore when he heard the telltale thud of his trainer falling down. It was a common enough occurrence that it didn’t phase him anymore. Onew’s clumsiness usually manifested when he was in a rush; his insistence on taking things slowly and adopting an easygoing air was more for his own health than an image booster.

 

Unfortunately, the general public wasn’t aware of this, so when the older man somehow got his pants leg caught in the wheel of his suitcase and faceplanted in the middle of the baggage claim, people naturally came over to see if he was alright. Taemin threw on a smile, waving off most of the attention as he tried to help Onew untangle himself. Onew laughed, his eyes grateful, and Taemin just shook his head.

 

“Is there anything I can do?”

 

The deep timber of that voice sent feather-light shivers across Taemin’s skin. He could feel Onew’s leg tensing under his hand, but he still peered up to confirm that yes, Minho was standing over them, and yes, there was a tension bouncing between the three of them that could rival a storm before it broke. Taemin shut his mouth before it became obvious that he was drooling.

 

“Can you take a closer look, here, it’s caught up.” So he was flirting a little, so what? Onew smiled, embarrassed, but Taemin knew he was in so much trouble later. It wasn’t his fault, if the older man wasn’t trying so hard to run away, they wouldn’t be in this situation now.

 

So with all the self-righteousness of the young, Taemin curled his fingers around Minho’s wrist and tugged him down to the floor. If the rapidly forming plans in his head went right, Onew would be thanking him by the end of the night.

 

Taemin looked entirely too pleased with himself as he herded Minho into the private car hired to take them to the villa. Onew couldn’t protest too much; there was plenty of space, and Minho’s hotel really wasn’t all that much out of the way.

 

The youngest of the three manipulated the seating arrangement so that Minho sat between him and Onew. Minho gave them a shy, grateful smile, but he clutched his briefcase in his lap like his very life depended on it. A slightly awkward silence filled the backseat as all three men searched for something safe to discuss.

 

“What brings you to Bangkok? Work?” Onew made a mild gesture towards the briefcase, Minho followed the sweep of his hand with longing eyes until it occurred to him that he was being spoken to. It didn’t escape Taemin’s notice, and his grin sharpened.

 

“Yes. An audit hearing. I’ll only be here for three days.” Both Taemin and Onew made small clucking noises of disappointment that sent a small wave of heat across Minho’s face. He adjusted his glasses in vain hopes of hiding it.

 

“There’s no way you can experience everything here in a measly three days! That’s just…stingy!” Taemin protested, accentuating his outcry with a pleading hand on Minho’s forearm. It made the taller man duck his head to hide the beginnings of a smile, but Taemin still felt the disapproval radiating from his trainer. Onew’s expression never shifted from courteous interest, but the line of his spine gave him away.

 

“It is a shame that you can’t stay a little longer.” Onew tilted his head to the side a little, a furrow appearing between his brows. “They aren’t going to keep you locked up in a boardroom the whole time, are they? Even accountants need sunlight and fresh air.”

 

“I didn’t make plans, since I came alone.”

 

“Even so, do try and see a little of the city before you leave. This place can be a treasure if you take the time to explore it.” Onew leaned forward, resting his chin on one hand so that he could catch Minho’s eye. “A little adventure would do you a world of good.”

 

“Are you offering to guide me?”

 

The question caught all three of them unawares: Minho’s expression suggested that it was supposed to be part of an internal monologue, never meant to be spoken out loud. Onew actually leaned back in his seat, struggling to determine if Minho was asking an honest question, trying to flirt, or both. Taemin simply looked like the cat that ate the canary.

 

“Dinner!”

 

The two older men nearly jumped out of their skins when Taemin made an exclamation that shattered the tension in the car. “Do you have dinner plans tonight?” “No,” Minho looked up at Onew before quickly looking away again. “I don’t want to intrude.”

 

“You have to eat,” Taemin also looked up at Onew, puppy eyes going full force behind Minho where he couldn’t see it. “And it would be a great way to catch up.” He leaned in to the shell of Minho’s ear, his sultry tone a complete mismatch for the pleading expression he wore.

 

“Don’t say no.”

 

Whether the last sentence was for Onew or Minho remained unclear. The car pulled up to the front of the hotel and Onew slid out so that Minho could exit the car. As the driver pulled Minho’s scant luggage out of the trunk, Onew turned to face him. The professional smile disappeared for a moment, leaving only a mild, slightly timid quirk of a smile behind.

 

“Don’t let Taemin pressure you into anything you don’t want to do. He gets…ah, let’s just say that you left quite an impression. No, it was a good one, I promise! Ahem....all the same, you aren’t obligated to...”

 

“I want to!” Minho blurted out, holding up a hand with a panicked waving motion. “I do. Very much.”

 

“Ah.”

 

“But…only if…”

 

“I assure you, I would be delighted to share the pleasure of your company.” The lick of fire in Onew’s eyes was completely genuine, sending Minho into an instant flashback to the hungry gaze leveled on him when he first stepped into Onew’s bedroom at Camden Road. All he could manage in the face of the overwhelming wave of lust that followed was nod mutely.

 

“I hope you like sushi.”

 

“S-sushi? That’s fine.” Minho figured that he could put his portion of the check on the company bill, as long as he ate cheaply for the rest of the trip. Not that he had planned on any extravagant meals, but he had a good idea of what the limits were.

  
“Great! We’ll send the car around 8:30 then!” Taemin popped his head out, smiling so widely that it turned his eyes into half-moons. Minho had no idea that he could make an expression that adorable; he was so taken aback that he laughed out loud before he could censor himself.

 


	4. Nantaimori

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies about the delay in posting!

“Hyung…”

 

“Not now, Taemin.”

 

“…Jinki-hyu~ung. Don’t be like that.”

 

“I’m not ‘like’ anything at the moment.”

 

“You’re pissed. That’s a really big something.”

 

“I’m disappointed, Taemin, not angry.” Onew turned to look at his apprentice for the first time since they pulled away from the front of the hotel. It wasn’t a lie, there was nothing denoting anger in his body language at all, but the hurt and disappointment was more than enough to have Taemin second guessing himself.  

 

“You are in the middle of your finals. All the Majors are watching every move you make, Taemin, looking to see if their investment was worth it...”

 

“I know, hyung, but...”

 

“...and on top of that, this is the first step in shaping what your reputation is going to be, and that stays with you for years.” Onew flinched at his own lecturing tone; it wouldn’t properly express what he was feeling at the moment, and Taemin would probably tune it out anyway.

 

“So to see you blatantly acting like some first-day trainee is distressing. It makes me feel like I failed you somewhere along the way.”

 

“Stop it! Hyung, I know all that! I do!”

 

Taemin unbuckled his seatbelt. “That’s dangerous, sit properly!” The apprentice maneuvered so that he straddled Onew’s lap. “Once I pass my final, that’s it. My life isn’t mine until I pay back that investment. I can’t hang out with my friends like I used to, or make mistakes, or come to you when I need you.” He looped his arms around Onew’s shoulders, holding on until he felt Onew embrace him back.

 

“Can’t you just treat this like my graduation gift? A little time with you and somebody that helped me figure out what the hell that dusty old tome was trying to tell me?” Taemin cradled his head, fitting it in the slope between Onew’s neck and shoulder.

 

“Nice to know all my classes ended up boring you.” Onew teased, but Taemin heard his resolve crumbling.

 

“You need this too, hyung.” Onew tensed but Taemin pressed on. “Harp about rules all you want, but even the Majors ignore them at times if they think they won’t count. You work so hard, and you’re always looking out for all of us. When’s the last time you did something just because you wanted to?”

 

“Two years ago, when I specifically asked Leeteuk to let you be my apprentice.”

 

The answer came without a hint of hesitation, and it shocked Taemin enough to make him pull back to look Onew in the eye. Sure enough, naked pride shone out from his bemused grin, and Taemin felt an answering thrill course through his whole body.

 

“I knew from the moment I saw you that you were special, that raw potential was packed in that gangly teenage body of yours.” Onew ran his hands up Taemin’s ribs, recalling how not too long ago he could count each and every one with distressing ease.

 

“I tried to teach you everything I had to learn the hard way, so that you never had to take the hard knocks that I did.” And in too short of a time, Onew would have to open his hands and watch his fledgling fly away. The sensation was a familiar one; he’d trained others in the past, but never for this long or on such a personal level.

 

“And you did a great job. I couldn’t have gotten anyone better. You taught me how to read complete strangers at a single glance. What makes you think I can’t read you?” When Onew couldn’t answer, Taemin kissed him on the forehead with a giggle.

 

“You don’t have to believe in me. Just believe in the you that believes in me.”

 

“What? Oh for crying out loud Taemin, really?!”

 

“It’s appropriate to the situation!”

 

“I’m burning all your manga when we get home.”

 

“You wouldn’t!”

 

“No. But I might donate them to a library.”

 

“Hyung!”

  
~8~8~8~8~8~  
  
  


When Minho walked into the hotel lobby at the appointed time, he expected to see Onew there waiting for him. What he saw instead was a rather imposing looking fellow in a suit that probably cost more than Minho made in six months. He wore a pair of designer shades and held up a lacquered sign with “Mr. Choi Minho” in elegant handwriting.

 

“Ah, I’m Choi.” Although Minho couldn’t see his eyes behind the sunglasses, he still felt like the other man had x-ray vision and was scanning him for hidden weapons. Minho adjusted his tie nervously, suddenly thankful that all he packed to wear were suits and his pajamas. His clothes might not be expensive, but at least he wouldn’t have to suffer the embarrassment of being under-dressed.

 

“Good evening, sir. If you’ll follow me please.” The sign tucked under one arm, Sunglasses held the hotel door open and stood at militaristic attention. Minho stared at him as he cautiously walked outside. Grandly waiting in the roundabout with all the coiled patience of a lounging panther was his ride.

 

A sleek ebony-silver 2010 Aston Martin Rapide.

 

Minho found himself grateful for his car enthusiast cubicle-mate and his daily car rambling; it was the only reason he knew what the vehicle was other than an orgasm on wheels and ridiculously expensive. When he got back to the office, he was assured to have bragging material for days. Sunglasses opened the passenger side door for him, and Minho slid inside with only a quick glance at the gaggle of busboys and valets pointing at him and whispering to each other.

 

The car ride was quiet save for the generic jazz playing on the radio. Minho never did very well with small talk, but Sunglasses took the idiom of “the driver’s job is to drive” with extreme seriousness. Bangkok whizzed past his window, a madcap blend of colored lights, silken shadows, and pulsing humanity.

 

Minho wondered why they were going for Japanese cuisine instead of something a bit more local, but at least he’d eaten sushi before. Perhaps Onew wanted to give him something familiar on his first night in a strange land. The thought sparked a miniscule glow of comfort in his heart.

 

The Aston Martin pulled up to the docks; Minho looked around for a waterfront restaurant but could only see warehouses. As images of being shot and dumped into the unforgiving waters sped through Minho’s imagination, Sunglasses pulled a sharp left and approached a dazzling luxury yacht.

 

“We have arrived, sir. Have a pleasant evening.” Sunglasses opened the door for Minho, allowing the strains of the string ensemble on the deck of the ship to waft into the backseat. A mild sense of trepidation made Minho fumble with his seatbelt before he slid out of the vehicle. If this was where they were supposed to be having dinner, then Minho was going to eating out of vending machines for the rest of the trip.

 

“Thank you.” He reached for his wallet, mentally calculating what he would be an appropriate tip. Sunglasses twitched his mouth in what may have been either a smirk or an involuntary muscle spasm.

 

“No need sir. I have been properly compensated.” And with an efficient bow, Sunglasses returned to the driver’s side of the car and stood at attention again. Minho tucked his wallet away, hoping his relief didn’t show too much.

 

He scanned the pier for any sign of a familiar face, and when he didn’t see one he meandered closer to the ship. Why on earth hadn’t he thought to get a cell phone number from one of them before they departed, like a rational person?

 

“Oh good! You made it. I was about to call you when I realized I’d forgotten to ask for your phone number; I hope you’ll forgive the mistake.” Onew’s intimate, languid tones sent a welcome ripple of desire along Minho’s skin. As he turned to face his host, Minho entertained the idea that Onew had secretly brainwashed him to get turned on just by talking.

 

It wasn’t an entirely unpleasant theory.

 

Onew looked immaculately chic in his taupe Thai silk shirt opened to mid-chest and his fawn-colored leather pants. Beige sandals displayed his neat, masculine pedicure, and a subtle gold band encircled his left wrist. His hair was different, dyed a rich honey-wheat and cut so that the neck-length strands lovingly framed his face.

 

Minho didn’t even pretend that he wasn’t staring. There was no point, not when there was a smorgasbord of sexual magnetism standing in front of him for his eyes to devour. Still, he somehow missed the poignant look Onew gave him as he languidly took him by the arm to guide him up the gangplank.

 

“I hope the trip here was comfortable. Sorry for not coming to meet you at the hotel, but I got caught up supervising the kitchen staff. Do you have any food allergies? Your profile said you didn’t, but it never hurts to double check.”

 

“Kitchen staff?” Minho blinked owlishly. “This…this isn’t a restaurant?”

 

“Oh! Not exactly, no. It’s booked for a private meal for the evening. We thought it would be cozier that way.” Onew laughed in a way that made it seem they were both sharing a private joke, instead of over Minho’s naive mistake.

 

“Cozy might not be the best word for a boat this big.” Minho chuckled weakly, and Onew scratched the back of his head with an embarrassed shrug of the shoulders.

 

“Maybe not. Can I use the excuse that it’s the thought that counts? Ah, Linda! Pardon me…” Onew breezed him past the musicians, excusing himself for a moment to speak in hushed tones to a blonde, stocky woman in a burgundy pantsuit.

 

Minho used the time to marvel at the way the shimmering silk whispered hints of the sinewy body underneath; now that they were in full light, it was easy to see that there was no way Onew could be wearing underwear with those pants. Minho clenched his jaw shut to keep from drooling down the front of his shirt.

 

“Everything’s ready, this way. Taemin will join us in a moment.” Onew opened a suite door to a spacious room decorated in eggshell whites and gleaming walnut. Tatami mats covered the floor, and two antique Japanese screens dominated the back of the room.

 

“I’m happy that you accepted our invitation.” Onew’s voice snapped Minho out of his trance; he looked down to see Onew giving him a blanket-soft smile. He laced their fingers together and led Minho over to a pearl-colored pillow to sit on. “If I seemed a little hesitant this afternoon, it’s only because approaching you openly like that is rather unorthodox.” Minho made a non-committal noise, but his mind froze, stuck on one devastating thought.

 

This wasn’t a friendly dinner. This wasn’t even a casual date.

 

This was a session.

 

Minho assumed when Taemin and Onew asked him out that this rendez-vous was actually just going to be a nice supper, maybe a few drinks, after which he could go back to the hotel room and jack off in peace. But they were looking at him like a potential client, not just plain Choi Minho. His internal organs felt like they were just encased in ice and dropped off the side of a cliff.

 

“Are you feeling alright? You aren’t getting seasick by any chance, you look pale…”

 

I think there might have been some kind of mistake. That was all he had to say, and this whole mess could fixed with a minimum of mortification. And he opened his mouth, ready to confess that despite all appearances, he hadn’t suddenly gotten some massive promotion that would allow him to afford another night of extravagance.

 

Before he could force the words out, however, the suite doors opened, allowing a small army of servants to flow in. A low, elongated rosewood table was brought in and placed in front of them, a thin, snowy-white silk cushion rolled horizontally across the top.

 

The woman in burgundy rolled in an ornately hand painted laquered trolley and set up place settings with an efficiency that left Minho vaguely winded. Porcelain containers of shoyu, sake bottles and cups appeared with a flourish, along with delicate chopsticks that looked handmade and treasured.

 

A doe-eyed Thai girl popped up on Minho’s right, enclosing each of his hands in hot, damp jasmine-scented towels. Tealight candles with a fragile scent Minho couldn’t quite place occupied the ends of the table, and exotic flowers filled in remaining blank spots on the gleaming wood.

 

And then they brought in Taemin.

 

The young man was rolled in on something like an open palaquin, pushed by two barrel-chested men in crisp kimonos. Onew addressed them in melodious Japanese, and they lowered Taemin to the table swiftly and carefully before shuffling backwards out of the room and shutting the doors.

 

Dinner was being served on Taemin.

 

With fig leaves offering the only covering on his completely shaven body; his glowing, nude skin was artistically decorated with lotus blossoms, golden lantoms, and orchids along his legs and shoulders. Sashimi of the highest quality lay like jewels from the base of his neck to mid-sternum, where gourmet maki rolls and a plethora of nigiri made a path of temptation to the handrolls by his groin.

 

He looked absolutely delicious.

 

His hair was a lighter shade of Onew’s, highlighted in streaks of sunlit-gold and fanned out like a halo as he lay there; unmoving except for the sated smile on his face, Minho thought he resembled some sort of pagan god decorated for worship. Taemin’s eyes might have been half closed, but the smoldering look he gave Minho made the older man feel like he was the naked one.

 

He made the mistake of looking over at Onew; he was watching him ever so closely, a mixture of pride and raw passion swirling thickly in the air around him. It made Minho realize that he was starving, and it wasn’t for the banquet. His common sense and decency shredded like a cheap umbrella in the face of a monsoon.

 

Onew plucked a ruby slice of tuna from its spot over Taemin’s heart and held it out for Minho to taste. Minho was helpless to do anything but lean forward and curl it into his mouth with his tongue, letting it melt in his mouth with a minimum of chewing.

 

He could lie to himself, swear up and down that he would only take a few bites before telling them that he was still the same struggling peon that they knew two months ago, but deep in his heart he knew the truth.

 

If he had to beg, steal, or kill to afford to stay with them, even for a little while, he would find a way to do it.

 

 


	5. Beware The Black Sheep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long to update, things got crazy. Oy vey.

Choi Minho didn’t fit the image of an entry level accountant. His svelte looks didn’t account for it, although he did look like he could have been featured in a glossy magazine if he pursued that line of work. He didn’t come across as some puffed up peacock or ambitious shark trying to secure a higher space for himself by stepping on the backs of his superiors either.

 

It was the latter that had Noh Minwoo puzzled. The time, effort, and sheer stubborn force of will required to cobble together the seemingly innocuous threads that lead to a problem this huge suggested that Choi had a core of ruthlessness. To most men in Choi’s position, an error that costly should have been like blood on the water; they would be thrashing and biting to get a piece of the action.

 

However, the man that waited outside of his office had a placid, dreamy expression, like he was somewhere a million miles away.  There wasn’t even a hint of nervousness over the fact that he was about to meet the man who held his future balanced in the palm of his hand.

 

It amused Minwoo a great deal, and it had been far too long since he felt that way.

 

The receptionist did an admirable job in maintaining her composure, though Minwoo noted how often she snuck glances at their visitor as she typed. Since she was a loaner from the company for his use while he was staying in Thailand, Minwoo forgave her shoddy ability to focus while in the presence of such a handsome young man. A sharp crack of the neck, and Minwoo pushed himself away from the hidden corner where he’d observed the reception area for the last fifteen minutes.

 

“Good morning. Choi, I presume?”

 

“Yes, sir. Choi Minho; I’m here from the Gangnam branch.”

 

Choi’s voice didn’t match his demeanor; it was subdued yet husky. He had a firm handshake, but it came from a natural strength, not a desire to dominate. Minwoo gave him an obviously appraising glance before heading into the office, taking note of how the other man reacted to it.

Choi didn’t even flinch.

 

Interesting.

 

“Noh Min-woo. I hope you didn’t have too long of a wait, you know how it is. Can I have Kimnai get you anything before we get down to business?”

 

“I’m fine. Thank you.”

 

“Good. What’s your side of the story then?”

 

“M-my side? I don’t understand sir.”

 

Minwoo stretched out in the overly cushioned office chair, maintaining a façade of thinly veiled disinterest. Choi seemed puzzled, but instead of becoming flustered or sputtering, he opened his briefcase and pulled out several thick manila envelopes.

 

“The main office only sends people to me for two reasons: either you made a mistake that’s going to put your ass on the line, or they made such a monumental error that they need a scapegoat of little or no importance to take the fall.” Minwoo spun the chair to face the back window, a flicker of a smile crossing his face.

 

“Now tell me, are you here to cover your ass or theirs?”

 

The question was met with a steely silence. Minwoo almost sighed. It seemed like Choi would crumble just like all the rest, how boring. Minwoo swung the chair around and was met with a withering stare. Where there was once a wistful tranquility, there was now a fierce disapproval. He must have struck a nerve.

 

“With all due respect, sir, I would say I’m here to cover your ass.”

 

Minwoo’s façade slipped as a surprised laugh escaped him. “Is that so? And just how did you come to that conclusion, Choi?”

 

“To put it simply, the majority of these errors come from a side project that got derailed nearly four years ago. There was an automated program with a directive to add a 0.2% service deduction on seven of our main accounts, to cover the costs of the Hyperion servers we were getting installed.”

 

“A fairly standard practice.”

 

“But since Hyperion crashed and burned before they could finish out our contract, we went to another company, Celetek, to get the servers built and set up.”

 

“Which is a shame, but business is business.”

 

“Since Celetek designed the servers to be self sufficient, and lifetime IT support was included in the initial price, there’s no reason to have that service charge. In fact, there was a period of a month were the charge was removed…just a moment…here. June of ’07. But as soon as July hit, the charges were back again.”

 

“It doesn’t show on the itemized billing lines…”

 

“Exactly.” Choi slipped more sheathes of paper out of the envelopes and spread them out across the desk, creating a rainbow of highlighted sections and sticky notes. “They do show up on the final monthly tallies on each account, all except for the house accounts.”

 

Minwoo picked up a pile of papers, absorbing the meticulous notes in the margins and the crisply underlined formulas. Choi continued in measured, but forceful tones; an indication that he tried to explain this whole scenario to several people before this meeting.

 

“If it was supposed to be there, then even the house accounts would have the percentage added on. But we have external auditors who go over this, and they made a note about the switch to Celetek back here in November of ’06. That was the biggest clue. But when I spoke to the other division managers, none of them could produce a document telling them to remove the charge from the other accounts. It’s something that should have come from the higher-ups, but it never did, despite being critical information!”

 

“It sounds to me like people were too lazy to actually pay attention to some of the company wide emails, and now they’re scrambling to pass the buck.” Minwoo ignored the choked gasp of air from the younger man. “Perhaps it’s best you go home, tell your division chief to set up a committee, and start cutting the people that aren’t pulling their weight.”

 

Choi was on his feet now, indignation and frustration coloring his words as his spine straightened. Minwoo placidly shuffled through the reports, but the air of outrage eminating from his subordinate was almost palpable. It seemed there actually was something boiling beneath the surface of Choi’s calm demeanor after all.

 

“There are millions floating in limbo,” Choi slapped the other envelopes on the desk with a meaty thud, “and no one knows where the money is going or even why it’s still coming in; and since it concerns some of our biggest clients, that means someone very high up dropped the ball.” He made a wide sweeping gesture with one arm towards the other offices.

 

“And that’s just at our branch; there’s no telling what’s going on at Yongsan, Dongdaemun, or Seocho. Before you go around blaming the lower workers, sir, you should consider the source of the problem. Then figure out if you should be scrambling to keep your job. ”

 

Choi sat down gingerly in his chair, the flames of righteousness in his eyes dimmed to embers for the moment. He shook slightly, as if he were unused to emotional outbursts. Minwoo paused for a few beats, his face blank and hard as a marble wall.

 

He observed Choi as the magnitude of what he said finally sunk in. It was like watching a balloon slowly deflate after being poked with a pin. To his credit, Choi retained his good posture and determination. Minwoo had to give him credit for that.  

 

“Are you quite finished, Choi?”

 

“Yes, for the moment. Sir.”

 

“Who helped you figure this out? This is…weeks worth of intense work.”

 

“I did this alone.” No trace of pride or fishing for praise, just a simple statement of truth.

 

Minwoo stared at him, Choi kept his hands firmly clenched in his lap, and the antique clock on the desk counted seven seconds of time before Minwoo stood up and took off his jacket.

 

“Get comfortable.” Minwoo gave him a razor bladed smile as he rolled up his sleeves. “We have a lot of work to get through. Kimnai dear? There is a severe lack of coffee in here. Be a love and fix that. Oh, and some of that tasty look choob would be great too, thanks.”

 

The flabbergasted expression on Choi’s face made Minwoo want to cackle out loud. The man was easier to read than a first grade primer. Right now Choi probably thought he finally found a competent, reasonable ally in his corner, someone willing to work hard to right the obvious wrongs eating the company from the inside.

 

The boys at Gangnam really did send the perfect sacrificial lamb out alone into the fields. It almost made Minwoo feel bad about having to eventually destroy him. But Minwoo knew better than to act like a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

 

A smart wolf dressed up like a shepherd. 

 

 


	6. A Gesture Of Gratitude

“I followed your advice, and it worked. Thank you both.”

It was a simple text, but when it popped up on Taemin’s phone he did a little victory dance on the couch. Onew’s phone went off a moment later, and Taemin snuck a peek, confirming that he’d gotten the same message.

On the car ride home last night (Minho insisted that he had to get back to the hotel after dinner, Taemin insisted on just a few more minutes and caresses, Onew compromised by piling them all in the backseat) Minho admitted that he was more than a little nervous about meeting with the Head of Finance in the morning.

“You’ll be fine! Just picture him in his underwear and he won’t be nearly as scary.”

“I was going to suggest a chicken suit…it might be a bit safer.”

“You can be so weird sometimes, hyung.”

This at least got Minho to laugh a little, and as Taemin stealthily unzipped the fly to his pants, he could just make out Onew murmuring into his ear.

“Don’t let him treat you like a doormat. You’re smart, good-hearted, and hard-working, and you deserve to be treated with respect. Remember that, no matter what.”

Minho opened his mouth to protest, but by then Taemin had his lips planted firmly around his cock, so all that came out was a throaty gurgle. The driver raised the partition without a word and took the scenic route back to the hotel.

As Taemin debated on whether or not he should take Onew’s phone into the sauna so that he could see the message right away or hide it so he could tease him later, his own phone played the melody from Swan Lake signaling a second text from Minho.

“I almost forgot to ask, but when will Jjong call me to negotiate the terms for last night?”

Taemin’s hands quivered as he reread the text for a second and third time. Negotiate? Did Minho think that they were going to make him pay just to...

Reality blindsided him like a speeding truck. Of course he thought he had to pay. He probably didn’t realize that it was just a regular date, no strings attached. Onew let him have a reigning hand over everything, letting him do everything he wanted and helping Taemin’s whims come to life. Taemin would’ve been suspicious, but since this was the sort of thing he would be doing on a regular basis soon, he didn’t think twice about it.

He was so sure Minho would see the affection in all they’d done; he adored being pampered and fussed over before, so what could have gone wrong? It couldn’t be that he wasn’t interested, Taemin could almost taste the loneliness seeping out of his pores.

To think that Minho viewed it like just another job hurt Taemin much more than he thought it would.

Onew’s phone buzzed, and Taemin lept for it. A twin text; he swiftly deleted it as he blinked back the unexpected tears trembling on the edge of his vision. There was no way in hell he would let Onew know about this mixup. It might have been pride, fear, or a desire to protect the sappy little smile his mentor sported since they waved goodbye to Minho the night before; whatever it was, Taemin resolved to fix this mess so that no one else had to get hurt.

“Ma cherie amour, pretty little one that I adore, how I wish that you were...why do you have my phone?” Onew blinked at Taemin behind a flop of damp hair that hung in front of his eyes. Taemin balked; if Jinki-hyung was singing Stevie Wonder, he was in a great mood.

Fuck.

“Minho sent us a thank you text, here!” Taemin tossed him the phone and quicky pretended to read his own, forcing back the tears as he deleted the second text on his own cell. By the time he looked back up at Onew, he seemed just like his normal, cheery self again.

Thankfully, Onew was too preoccupied to notice that Taemin’s sparkling persona was much more muted than normal.

*~*~*~*~

“Where’s your beer? I know you still keep it in the house, so pony up.”

“Hi Jjong. My vacation is going splendidly, thank you for asking. Might I inquire as to why you’re in my apartment?” Onew put his cell on speakerphone and ran a towel over his dripping wet hair. He sprawled out on the deck chair, deciding to let the mid-morning sunlight and the breezes from the ocean dry him after his refreshing skinny-dip in the villa pool. From his vantage point on the private deck, Onew could look out and see nothing but azure water and fluffy cumulus clouds for miles.

A spread of finger sandwiches, mango, and fish kebobs sat temptingly on a platter next to the chair, along with a freshly-made mimosa in a sparkling crystal champagne flute. But if Jjong was calling, there was no way Onew would be getting to eat anytime soon. Leave it to Jonghyun to pinpoint the precise moment during his brunch when he was most relaxed to call and be a nuisance.

“I’m polishing your silverware, what the hell do you think? Ah hah! Found it! Come to daddy, kekeke.”

There was a sharp crack on the other end of the line, followed by the bubbly splash of liquid being poured. Jjong might have a crude mouth sometimes, but his manners could be impeccable when he made the effort. It was one of the many contradictions about Jonghyun that allowed him and Onew to be friends as well as co-workers.

“If you can spare a moment in the middle of your pedicure, maybe you can tell me when you decided to become an Auxiliary.”

“Jonghyun.” Onew picked up the phone, taking it off of speaker. He could tell that this conversation wasn't going to be a jaunty chat between two friends. And since Jjong was purposefully trying to sound chipper and smooth, it was a clear indication that he was quite upset.

“Because hey, if you suddenly decided you wanted to change your line of work, I should be the first person to know, don’t you think? Or did you decide to start making your own arrangements with clientele because you think I’m doing a shitty job and just didn’t have the heart to tell me?”

Onew sighed. “No, you’re great at what you do, and you know it.”

“Oh, you’ve got those shrimp cracker thingies, yum.”

“You aren’t using my suede chairs as a footstool again, are you? I bought a stepladder just so you wouldn’t.” Onew smirked as he bit into a slice of mango, licking his fingers as he waited for Jjong to get distracted by the short joke.

“Fuck you. As I was saying, if you think that’s the case, then by all means, let me give you a little tip about being an Aux. One of our primary functions in this oh so glamorous hive of peccadillo is to set up meetings with clients and make sure that everything is paid in full and up front. It creates a system of trust, and keeps everything running smoothly.”

“I’m well aware of that.”

“Are you? Because when I get an invoice for yacht rentals, kitchen staff, bottles of champagne and enough fish to feed a collective of wild dolphins, and I have no record of it in my files, it makes me think that maybe you forgot the way things work. And that hurts, it really does.”

“Jjong it was...”

“But if you aren’t joining the Auxiliary ranks, then do you mind explaining to me what the flying fuck you thought you were playing at by hosting a client on your own? I’m dying to know, I really am.”

“It was an impromptu session,” Onew spoke quickly trying to complete his explanation before Jonghyun interrupted again.

“... and the only reason I didn’t go through you is because we ran into him at the airport, and…well there wasn't a lot of time. And before you even say it, yes, I know it was stupid and I know I bent the rules, but…please. Cover for us. Just this once.”

The sound of muted crunching snapped from the speakers of the phone. Onew kept a white-knuckled grip on his champagne glass, waiting for Jjong to respond before pressing any further.

“It was Choi again, wasn’t it?”

Jjong sounded wary, the tone of his voice pleading for Onew to tell him something different. Onew battled against the wave of guilt that created a sour taste in the back of his mouth. A viscous silence oozed thick and heavy over the line.

“For fucks sake, Jinki-”

“Look, the money is there, I transferred it yesterday, all you have to do is fiddle with a few things to make it look good…Jonghyun, Taemin begged me...”

“Taemin?! You mean he’s caught up in this too?!”

“...and we both know that it’ll just pass as a blip under the radar. Please. It’s not fair of me to ask you to do this, but I’ve never asked you to do anything like this before.”

“That’s the point. You don’t do shit like this, you never have. When I showed you his profile, it was clear that you should have turned him down as a client, I mean fuck, Choi didn’t have enough bankroll for even a picture of you to jack-off to. But you asked me to work something out, and I got him that discount, didn’t I? And you promised me you’d be done with him after that, Jinki.”

“This is the last time I do anything without talking to you first. I’m sorry, and it wasn’t fair of me to put you in that position.”

“I notice you didn’t say you weren’t going to see him again.” Jonghyun stuffed his mouth with another handful of chips. {maybe?}

“...don’t eat all my chips, Jjong.”

“Yah! You must want to see me die an early death, Jinki! What did I do to make you hate me so much? I thought we were like brothers, you over-priced meat jockey!”

“Love you too!”

Onew snapped the phone closed with a decisive click and flopped back in the lounge chair. It truly was unfair of him to ask Jjong to cover his tracks like that. But Onew just couldn’t help but act a little selfish. After all, he’d made so many sacrifices for so many people over the years, putting everyone else over himself.

Taemin was absolutely right. It was high time Onew claimed his reward for years of good service. Considering the fact that Minho was the first thought that ran through his sleep-addled mind as he woke up this morning, taking the opportunity to be self-indulgent occasionally was something Onew felt he had to do for his own well-being.

*~*~*~*~*~*  
It was difficult to figure out if Taemin was elated or upset as he sipped his iced sweet basil drink. On the one hand, Taemin checked his gleaming Patek watch once every five seconds, scowling at the innocent piece of equipment in a way that made his poor waiter cower whenever he walked past the table. On the other hand, as the boy stirred the mottled green drink, an errant wind flirtatiously toyed with stray locks of hair from his carefully constructed bed-head hairstyle, a dreamy expression mellowing his features.

People strolled past the outdoor café, a multitude of languages a counter-melody to the sounds of traffic and a street band playing a block away. Taemin watched as a cart of flower leis and beaded jewelry rumbled by, the beast of burden pulling it bedecked like a royal steed in a parade.

As it bumped past his field of vision, it revealed Minho standing across the street, looking from his cell phone to the sign above the café and back again with an uncertain look on his face.  
Taemin immediately slumped into an apathetic pose, acting like he hadn’t spent the last ten minutes frantically keeping a look out for the man walking in his direction. He slid a glance out of the corner of his eye, silently appreciating the unbuttoned collar of Minho’s shirt and the loosened tie around his neck.

Even from his vantage point Taemin could see the marks he left there the other night; it made him extraordinarily pleased, though Minho probably suffered having to keep his shirt buttoned at the office. The surge of smug pride popped like a bubble when Minho made a frustrated motion with his hands and continued walking down the street, looking at the surrounding buildings with the simmering panic of a lost tourist.

Taemin blinked rapidly in shock; it finally dawned on him that when he sent Minho a text that day stating where to meet and when, that the older man would have a hard time finding it since he probably didn’t speak a word of Thai. Taemin hardly took the time to smack himself on the forehead before he threw some cash on the table and took off after his errant date.

He took off after Minho at a brisk pace, the open silk shirt he “borrowed” from Onew flapping behind him like a garnet curtain showing off his newly tanned chest. His choice of skinny jeans made him curse under his breath, but they made his ass look amazing, although he hadn’t counted on physically chasing the accountant through the backstreets of Bangkok in them. Taemin considered calling out to grab his attention, but when Minho stopped to hesitantly ask for directions in broken Thai, the small blush on his face made Taemin reconsider.

So while Minho stumbled from one crowded block to another, Taemin casually stalked him, indulging in mild revenge for the unintentionally hurtful text Minho sent yesterday morning. He had to admit, it was a little thrilling to see how close he could get before slipping away into a shadow when Minho turned his way.

At one point, Taemin even got bold enough to walk past Minho and goose him; his expression when he whirled around to confront his attacker and saw nothing but a pair of pre-adolescent schoolgirls was priceless. And just when it looked like Minho was going to give up on the whole quest, Taemin ducked into an alley and called his cell phone.

“Taemin, hello. I’m going to be late, I’m very sorry.”

“Oh, really? I was just calling to tell you the same thing. Are you lost?”

Minho’s shoulders slumped in obvious relief as he moved to get out of the way of pedestrian traffic. The bus stop bench he sat on gave Taemin an uninterrupted view of the way his shirt clung moistly to his back and shoulders, and he licked his lips in anticipation.

“I think I might be. How do you pronounce the name of the café? When I try to ask directions, people look at me like I insulted their mother.”

“Ouch. Hey, don’t worry about it. Tell me where you are now, maybe I can help you.”

“You’re that familiar with this city?”

“Not really. But you have a really sexy phone voice, and car rides are boring. Even if I can’t get you directions, I can at least get off on the sound of you talking in my ear.”

Taemin barely kept from laughing and blowing his cover when he saw Minho turn red and fumble with the phone. The elderly woman on the bench next to him gave him a haughty glance, and Minho hurried to apologize in Thai before turning his body to make the conversation a bit more private. Now Taemin had a good view of his profile. Not a bad trade.

“So tell me what landmarks you see. Slowly. I’m caught in traffic.”

“Taemin…”

“You need directions or not?”

“…there’s a fountain, shaped like a pair of frolicking dolphins. And I’m sitting at a bus stop, the number 12A…blue line I think.”

“Damn. I know exactly where you are.” Minho’s bashful smile actually made Taemin feel a tinsy bit bad about stringing him along. “Spoil all my fun. Facing the fountain, cross the street and make a left at the, let’s see, the break between the bar and the clothing store.”

“Ah, I see them!” Minho hurried to comply, never noticing Taemin strolling close behind.  
When they both crossed over, Minho walked into the secluded alley with only a hint of trepidation. Although it was open on both ends and surprisingly clean, only a modicum of sunlight offered any sort of lighting. But Minho squared his shoulders and shuffled in, keeping his head down and his pace brisk. He still wasn’t prepared for the lithe pair of arms that encircled his waist in an iron grip.

“Surprise. Don’t make that face, it’s not my fault you’re cute when you’re flustered.”

“How long were you behind me?”

“Hmmm, about the time you stood outside the cafe six blocks ago and walked right by me.” Taemin slid around to Minho’s front without unlocking his arms. The older man looked irritated, but Taemin ignored his stony expression to bury his face in Minho’s neck and inhale his scent: cucumber, mint, and shaving soap mingled with sweat.

Before he could stop himself, Taemin licked a long line from Minho’s Adam’s apple to the bottom of his jaw, noting the change of texture from slick skin to barely formed stubble. The stuttered moan it coaxed out of Minho had Taemin pressing them closer together.

“That wasn’t a very nice thing to do.”

“No, it wasn’t. But I was a little angry with you, so we’re even now.”

“Angry? With me?”

“Oh yeah.” Taemin backed him up, step by step, until Minho’s back hit the clay brick wall. “Onew and I busted our asses setting up a date to remember, and you have the nerve to ask about price?” Taemin hooked a finger on Minho’s tie, tugging it down inch by torturous inch. He took note of the nervous way Minho swallowed, and set to work sucking the bite marks he made before just to make Minho’s knees buckle.

“That was a date? Fuck, Taemin, s-stop, I can’t think.”

“All part of my diabolical plan.”

“But this is important...”

“No, it’s simple.” Taemin traced the outer shell of Minho’s ear with his tongue, blowing hotly against it until Minho’s hips twitched. “We might be professionals, but we have wants and desires just like everyone else. And what we want is you.” He slid down Minho’s body, undoing each and every one of his buttons and kissing the fluttering skin underneath.

“W-we?” Minho’s voice cracked; he clenched his fist in Taemin’s shirt, but it was hard to tell if Minho was trying to stop him or make him go further.

“We being me and Onew.”

“O-onew and I.”

“...are you seriously correcting my grammar right now?” Taemin paused, his mouth mere centimeters away from Minho’s belt buckle. Minho shook his head frantically and clamped his mouth shut.

“The point is, we want to be with you. Yes, we do mean you, before you bother asking. We don’t mind sharing, and...” Taemin looked up, one hand on Minho’s belt, and froze under the weight of Minho’s incredulous expression

“That is...if this is something you think you might be open to. The choice is yours. But we both really want you to say yes.” Taemin got to his feet, planting his arms on either side of Minho’s chest. He slid Minho’s glasses off and tried to look him in the eye. “You’re all we talked about for like three months-”

“Two.”

“What?”

“Two months, four days, seven hours.”

“Holy shit, are you serious?” It came out a whisper; Taemin felt like somewhere along the way an invisible hand turned his whole world upside down. Minho finally looked him in the eye, daring him to say it was all a joke. It pinned him to the spot, the raw intensity of his need dousing Taemin like a bucket of ice water. So much became clear: the raccoon eyes, the exhausted slump to his shoulders, the shamelessly desperate way he touched them.

Work didn’t turn Minho into a walking zombie. It was them.

“Is that a yes?” Taemin barely got the words out before Minho almost devoured his mouth, his hands invading the slim pockets of Taemin’s back pockets and crashing their hips together with enough force to knock a grunt out of both of them. Taemin wrapped his legs around Minho so fast he actually lost a sandal, but he didn’t care.

Minho took one hand out of Taemin’s pocket and tried to brace himself against the wall, but Taemin grabbed his wrist and slammed it above his head, rolling his hips like the the older man was a stripper pole. The buckle of Minho’s pants dug into his stomach, and a pedestrian could walk past and see them at any moment, but making Minho lose his cool was just too good an opportunity to pass up, and the grating friction of his cock straining though his dress slacks was a work of art.

“Hotel...should go back to hotel...” The sentence sounded more like a throaty growl, and Taemin tilted his head to one side like he was considering the proposal.

“We could.” He undulated to punctuate the sentence, and Minho whined. “But let’s make sure you make the journey back in one piece.” In one move, Taemin unwrapped himself from Minho’s waist and fell into a crouch. The belt ended up clattering on the concrete next to Minho’s abused glasses, and Taemin wasted no time in undoing Minho’s pants.

He gingerly pulled Minho’s boxers down just enough to get to the thobbing heat covered there. The smell that captivated him before was twice as strong here, and he wasted no time in taking a generous portion into his mouth. Minho pounded one fist against the wall, sending small flecks of brick dust flying into the air.

Taemin paused with his mouth halfway down Minho’s cock, staying completely still until Minho opened his eyes and looked down in lust-addled confusion. Taemin waited until he was sure Minho was focused on him before he pulled out a trick he’d been saving for his finale.

He gave Minho a wink that would have done Onew proud, took him all the way to the base of his cock until it slid like butter down his throat, and swallowed.

Hard.

It broke Minho’s frantically maintained silence, and he made a noise that sent several birds flying away in fright. It only took a few more rough swallows before Minho fell apart, whimpering Taemin’s name to the afternoon sky.


	7. Dancing In The Dark

“Where have you been all day?” Onew wiped his face with the towel around his neck, eyeing the timer on the treadmill to see how much more time he had to spend on the torturous device. After all the delicious Thai cuisine he had indulged in so far, he had to work some of it off or he was sure to get jokes about love handles at the gym back home. Taemin hopped up on the one next to him, fiddling with the settings before answering.

 

“Down at the Ruk Raek Pop getting a drink, wandering around, same old same old.” Taemin started off at a grueling pace, and as usual Onew felt a pang of envy over his youthful energy. He set his jaw, however, and remained at his own pace, knowing that stamina was his talent and working on keeping it maintained.

 

“Oh, and I met up with Minho. He’s totally down with dating us. Oh shit, hyung, are you ok?!” Taemin hit the emergency stop on his own machine before hopping down to help Onew. His mentor rolled over on his back, blinked dazedly at the ceiling as if he got bashed in the head with a sock full of loose change.

 

“Ow. I’m fine, wait… I’m tangled in the, oh, thanks. Now please explain what you just said?”

 

“Don’t chicken out now; it’s what we all really wanted, right?”

 

“I’m not chickening out.” Onew hobbled over to the first aid kit, secretly grateful for the unexpected excuse to leave off the machine for a while. “I’m just surprised that you went to go ask him without me, that’s all.”

 

“If I waited for you, it wouldn’t happen until we got home, and then you would weigh all the pros and cons and take forever and I’d die of old age and blueballs.” Taemin exaggerated with a dramatic sweep of his hand against his forehead. Onew laughed despite himself, covering up the small scrape on his knee with a Spongebob Squarepants band-aid.

 

“Tonight you’re going to go out on a simple, easy date like normal people do.” Taemin crouched in front of Onew, giving him an adorably stern look as he made a checklist on his fingers. “And I fully expect you to crack bad jokes, talk about spaceships, and eat enough chicken satay to put a restaurant out of business.”

 

“You expect me to do all that?”

 

“I expect you to show him the Jinki-hyung that I know and love.” He placed a butterfly kiss over Onew’s injury and fluttered his eyelashes at him. Onew chuckled and swatted at his head.

 

“Brat. When did you get to be such a smooth talker?”

 

“I learned from the best, of course. So, you forgive me for having a date first?”

 

“It’s fine.” Onew got to his feet and grabbed his water bottle before heading to the door. “Besides, Jjong called earlier. He drank your beer.”

 

“He what?!” Taemin screeched and ran over to his phone, furiously dialing the older man’s number. Onew got the last laugh, shutting the door of the villa gym to the sound of Taemin whining into Jjong’s voicemail about the concept of private property.

 

*~*~*~*~*~

 

The streets of Bangkok at night are a dazzling display of electric lights and gleaming structures intermingled with the cheap neon radiance of nocturnal commerce. The night market was especially fascinating for Minho, a blend of the familiar and the exotic that left him feeling like he just walked off of a carousel with each step. It was a perfect mirror of the man he walked beside: there was a slight mental disconnect between the Avatar of Desire Minho knew Onew to be on an intimate level and the cultivated, droll, and compassionate man coming out tonight.  

 

The scent of kaffir lime leaves, jasmine, and lemongrass filled the air, wafting out of the endless massage parlors and go-go clubs; but through it all he could just make out the woody spice of Onew’s Acqua Di Gio cologne. Lucky for him, Onew grabbed his hand to guide him through the bustling mass and either forgot to let go or simply wasn’t inclined to. Minho wouldn’t complain either way

 

Everything could be found for sale here and everyone was willing to bargain if you could haggle well enough. Negotiation was clearly an art form and a way of life here, as Minho quickly discovered and it was also something Onew proved to be disturbingly good at. The older man took a childish delight in bouncing from stall to stall, scanning it for the best and worst oddities he could get his hands on.

 

“She wants 300 baht for this? What a ripoff; it’s easily worth 190, if that.” Onew held a gruesome looking mask up to his face, peering at Minho through the hand-carved eyeholes with a twinkle in his eye. It completely clashed with his apricot Polo shirt and khakis, but Minho studied him as if it were a serious accessory choice. In the end, Onew paid the 300 baht, but he got the mask as well as a little ash-gray plush elephant cell phone charm.

 

“Here. Now you have something to remind you of your trip.” Onew pressed the charm into Minho’s hand with a charming blush that sent a wave of warmth through Minho’s body.

 

“Thank you. I think I’ll name him Babar.”

 

He didn’t miss the pleased way Onew’s eyes crinkled when he mentioned the name, but instead of the vaguely confused inquiry about where it came from, Onew shocked him by casually asking if he enjoyed any other French children’s lit. Minho knew that Onew was far from unintelligent, but it still caught him off guard. They wound up sitting outside of a tiny food stall, sharing a huge portion of khao mun gai tod and talking about their shared secret love for Le Petit Prince.

 

“When I first read that book, I went outside to my mother’s rose garden and declared myself the official Defender of the Buds. I think I named each one, and took great pains to make sure no sneaky baobab trees were growing in the flower beds.  I even complimented them every day so that they would grow beautifully.” Minho chuckled softly at the memory, dipping a sliver of fried chicken in the proper sauce. “My older brother honestly thought that I might have been switched at birth with an alien.”

 

“Is that so far fetched?” Onew swallowed a hot mouthful of rice and broth. “I think it’s possible that some people could be reflections of a reality slightly different from the one that most people perceive.” He gestured with a drumstick, circling it around the ceiling in a grand, expansive motion.

 

“The universe is a vast, ever expanding pool of concepts far beyond our meager understanding. Who’s to say that anything is impossible, when there is so much that we couldn’t begin to understand if we tried?”

 

“It would explain how I’m sitting here with someone like you right now.”

 

“Y-yes. That is one thing in our favor, at least.” Onew’s smile was luminous, tender and sincere in a way that drew Minho in like a hapless moth to a porch light.

 

As the silence began to grow comfortable, a street musician wandered by their table with a battered grass-green guitar and a hat nearly flattened under the weight of buttons from all over the world. She paused next to them, flipped her hat off in a graceful motion and plopped it on the ground. Her gnarled fingers drew the opening chords of “A Million Roses” from the well worn strings and a dreamy sigh from Onew.

 

To Minho’s delight, his companion began to faintly sing the words, his voice a dulcet tenor that, strangely enough, reminded him of blankets fresh from the dryer. And for the first time since he got on the plane, Minho felt like things may finally, finally, be working out in his favor. It was as if the last two months of suffering, hell, the last nine years if he was honest, dissolved into nothingness with each note.

  
  


They wandered the streets after dinner, still hand in hand as they wove their way back to Minho’s hotel. It was a somber trip, weighed down with topics they knew they should discuss but avoided by simply not speaking. A part of Minho actively wished that they could put it off until all three of them were back in Korea, just so that his last day in Thailand could remain a wonderland in his memory for all time.

 

Soon they passed a public beach, swarming with families at play even at this late hour. Tiny handheld fireworks sizzled and popped, luminous bouquets of multicolored flowers dancing in the darkness. Minho slowly rubbed his fingers along Onew’s knuckles, distracting himself by trying to memorize the length of space between each one.

 

“Are you getting tired?” Onew directed the question towards the sea. Minho didn’t answer right away; he fought an internal war between responsibility and contentment. It must have taken longer than he thought, because Onew turned to face him with concern etching lines in his face.

 

“Um, no. I got a little distracted. I’m fine, if you are.”

 

“I’m just dandy! But if you want to take a rest, let me know.”

 

“S-shakespeare.” Minho felt his whole face turning red in the face of his impending sentimentality. Onew waited patiently, and to his credit he didn’t laugh at Minho’s fumbling for words.

 

“That time…at Camden Road...that was Shakespeare, wasn’t it?”

 

“Um hmm.” Onew’s voice dropped a half-octave, taking on a dark chocolate quality that Minho never heard outside of the bedroom. He had to take a sharp breath before he could continue.

 

> “Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed,
> 
> The dear repose for limbs with travel tired;
> 
> But then begins a journey in my head,
> 
> To work my mind, when body's work's expired…”

 

Onew stopped walking abruptly. Minho felt his stomach drop; when he spent a sleepless night hunting down what play Onew was quoting from, he’d stumbled across that sonnet and felt an instant kinship with what it was saying. He printed it off and tacked it to his cork board, a tiny reminder that he lived a dream come true once upon a time. Minho thought it might something romantic to share now, but Onew looked shell shocked.

 

“…I read that and...um...it was interesting.”

 

> “For then my thoughts, from far where I abide,
> 
> Intend a zealous pilgrimage to thee,”

 

Onew continued the recitation quietly but with an emotional undertone that had Minho’s pulse picking up its pace. His gaze caught on Onew’s mouth forming the words, so concentrated on the way his lips shaped them that the meaning didn’t even register.

 

> “And keep my drooping eyelids open wide,
> 
> Looking on darkness which the blind do see
> 
> Save that my soul's imaginary sight
> 
> Presents thy shadow to my sightless view…”

 

Minho stepped into Onew’s space, bringing their bodies flush against each other. Onew’s eyes darkened to a dusky umber color that rippled anticipatory fire in the pit of Minho’s stomach. Minho leaned in to Onew to complete the poem, his breath hushed and shaky vibrating in shell of the older man’s ear.

 

> “Which, like a jewel hung in ghastly night,
> 
> Makes black night beauteous and her old face new.
> 
> Lo! thus, by day my limbs, by night my mind,
> 
> For thee and for myself no quiet find.”

 

“…if we don’t get back to your hotel in the next five minutes, I’m going to pull you into a corner and just fuck you there.” The whiskey-purr of Onew’s threat was followed swiftly by the feeling of his hand roughly grabbing the fabric on the lower half of Minho’s shirt.

 

“But the hotel is fifteen minutes away…”

 

Onew looked at him sharply, then smiled in a way that reminded Minho of a lion with a mouse trapped under its paw. The older man glanced away, then pulled Minho towards a public changing stall. There were a couple guys milling around it but when they saw Onew and Minho coming, they ambled off with a few grumbled curses in Thai. It occurred to Minho that perhaps this location had a bit of a reputation.

 

The bamboo structure was hardly big enough to hold both of them, and Minho could already feel grains of sand slipping into his shoes. Onew latched the little hook that kept the door closed and turned Minho so that he was facing the wall, the rough cylinders making imprints in his chest and stomach.

 

“You’ll have to forgive me.” Minho smothered a whine by biting down on his lip. There again was That Voice, the one that Minho could faintly hear in his ears when he furiously jerked himself off in the shower. The same Voice that asked him if Taemin could have him first that night. Fireworks continued to explode outside, but Minho could only see their reflected light on the columns of bamboo in front of him. He shut his eyes, internally lecturing his own body not to embarrass him too badly but it only drew his attention to the wall of heat Onew’s body made behind him.

 

“I admit I’ve been craving the sensation of being buried deep in this delectable body of yours since you walked out of Camden Road but I didn’t exactly intend for it to be like this.” Minho felt Onew’s hands unbuttoning his pants from behind and scrambled to assist. All he got for his troubles was a light slap to the hands.

 

“You. Hands on the wall and they better stay there.” Minho’s eyes widened, but he complied. A thick finger dragged his lip out from between his teeth as his pants and boxers slid down to his calves.

 

“I had imagined...oh, suck please...I imagined having you riding me on a water bed, so I could watch those muscular thighs of you really get put to work. Mmm, yes…that’s as good as I remember.” Minho laved at Onew’s fingers like his life depended on it.

 

“Or maybe I would lay you out on the leather sofa in my study so you could use the arm to brace yourself while I pound into you as hard as I liked.” To his shock, when Onew took his fingers away, instead of feeling them slicking his entrance, Minho felt the moistened digits creating a channel around his cock. The unexpected sensation had him gasping of air, digging his fingernails into the bamboo in an effort to follow instructions.

 

Minho let his head fall forward to rest on the wall, hardly hearing the telltale crinkle of a condom wrapper. His breath came out in heavy pants, and the air around them felt like it would turn into a cloud of steam with the combination of the natural humidity and the temperature the two of them were generating on their own.

 

“Cross this ankle behind the other. Good.” Minho complied with the odd request, but with a slight trepidation. He could feel the scorching smoothness of the lubed condom sliding between his ass cheeks and for a wild, terrifying moment Minho thought he was about to be penetrated with no preparation.

 

“Sshh, it’s alright.” Onew moved forward but pressed low, dipping and pushing until his cock was nestled between Minho’s thighs. Minho looked over his shoulder, lust and confusion writ large in his expression.

 

“I thought you wanted…”

 

“I do. Trust me, I do. Sadly, I don’t think this thing is sturdy enough.” Onew rocked forward a little, stroking Minho with a little twist at the end. Sure enough, the changing room gave an ominous little creak nearly downed out by the sound of their stifled groans. Minho squeezed his thighs experimentally and was rewarded with a tight downstroke.

 

“Where was I? Oh yes, my favorite.” Onew used his free hand to curl his fingers into Minho’s hair, tugging his head back so his voice could send vibrations along the sensitive skin beneath Minho’s ear. Without intense concentration what Onew whispered next would have made Minho come instantly.

 

“That’s the one where Taemin and I are both fucking you at once. Would you like that, Minho, feeling both of us jammed inside you so tightly that you nearly get split in two?”

 

Minho could only reply in a garbled string of pleas, his entire body reacting to stimulation in places even he hadn’t explored yet. He clenched his thighs even tighter, making miniscule thrusts with his hips that made the room wobble imperceptibly.

 

“You feel amazing, but I’m greedy. I want more.”

 

Onew started pushing slightly harder, taking note of the creaking wood. “So if you come for me, I promise to ream you out properly back at your hotel room. Sound good? Can you do that for me, Minho?”

 

Minho twisted his upper torso in a nearly painful way, kissing Onew like he needed the oxygen in the other man’s lungs to survive. His body went bowstring taut, then fell into violent convulsions as he nearly soaked the hem of his shirt and Onew’s hand. Onew had to hold him up with one arm as he pumped against him through the aftershocks, adding his own liquid heat to the rivulets dripping down Minho’s legs.

 

“We have to walk for fifteen minutes like this?” After a minute, Minho felt Onew rest his head between his shoulder blades with a warm chuckle. “That’s going to be an adventure.”

 

“Forget it.”

 

Minho uncrossed his legs, struggling to keep a straight face as he pulled Onew up for a small kiss.

 

“If we catch a cab, we’ll be there in four minutes.”

 

Onew blinked at him, then almost doubled over with laughter. Minho grinned, letting the sound wrap him up in happiness.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sonnet 27 by William Shakespeare.


	8. All Along The Backwater

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I am a giant nerd. No, I'm not sorry.

Minho was no expert on the subject of beauty, but Taemin and Onew both looked a bit rough around the edges lately. Taemin looked unhealthily pale, his clothes looked like he picked up whatever was clean off the floor that day, and he seemed twice as distracted and flighty as usual. Onew had bags under his eyes, and even the expensive Swedish facial masks weren't covering them up very well. He waved off inquires about his health and general well being, using Taemin's steadily encroaching exam as a valid excuse for sleepless nights and neglected skin care. While it was true that the dreaded test was only a few weeks away, Onew seemed to be twice as agitated as his apprentice, and Taemin was a nervous wreck.

 

For his part, Minho did his level best to simply be available whenever he thought either of the new men in his life (using the plural in that way still felt strangely taboo and foreign on his tongue, like the lingering memories of Thailand) even if it ruined his normally placid routine. The moment he arrived home he sent them messages imploring them to call him at anytime and for any reason, though a part of him whispered that he couldn't be of much use to either of them when push came to shove.

 

Still, if Taemin rang him up in the middle of the night looking for a companion to meet him at his favorite coffee shop, Minho got up and made his way there without a word of complaint. And if Onew called him at the break of dawn to go for a jog around the park, Minho broke his tennis shoes out before the conversation had a chance to end. Sure it meant taking impromptu naps on the bus to work, or shoveling his food down in less than ten minutes so that he could use the rest of his lunch break to get some extra sleep. But compared to the living hell he suffered through when he thought he would never see either of them again, this slight inconvenience was a cakewalk.

 

Oddly enough, neither Onew nor Taemin ever talked about their work while they were with Minho. It was the white elephant in the room, looming large and ominous in the background but steadily ignored. Taemin complained about his university coursework, or chattered about the latest videogame or popular song, but anything related to money or sex came across as strictly forbidden topics of conversation. Onew rarely said anything at all during their jogs, but when they arrived back at the place they started, sweaty and panting with exertion, he always leaned heavily against Minho's shoulder as if sharing a great weight that lay on his shoulders,

 

But for all that they avoided the subject of Taemin's induction into the Deva, the physical signs of stress swiftly became too much for even Minho to ignore. But it wasn't like he could take them out for a nice meal, or entice them for an evening out hitting the bars or fooling around in a norebang. The chances of them getting caught were far too high, and besides, those sorts of dates were just way too...common...for people like them, as far as Minho was concerned. However, it was painfully obvious that his lovers (again, the very word raced with the sweetest tingle across his brain) needed a breath of fresh air.

 

And just like that, with the same blossoming speed as a column of numbers revealing their mysteries to him, the idea of Lover's Day unfolded in the depths of his heart. Minho simply had to scrape up the courage to put his plan into action; after all, this relationship was still fragile, fresh, and new, and the last thing he wanted to do was throw everything off balance with an unwanted grand gesture of Love. He'd mistaken sexual compatibility with emotional affection many times before, and the memory of rejection still stung him when he wasn't paying attention.

 

Step one of the plan required stealth and cunning, meaning Minho needed a partner in crime. Rather, he needed two partners in crime who each thought they were cleverer than the other. It was a risky move, but the potential reward outweighed the danger factor.

 

"Don't you think Onew looks a little overworked these days?" Minho slid into the conversation cautiously as he brought over Taemin's favorite latte, hoping the pebble of a question would start an avalanche of an answer. Sure enough, Taemin launched into a lengthy diatribe about the state of Onew's well-being: he wasn't eating enough, he made Taemin run through everything from the smallest basics to the most advanced techniques over and over, ruthlessly picking out flaws until they both passed out from sheer exhaustion.

 

"And then he just downs this weird smoothie thing that smells like a llama's ass and goes to his assignments. It's insane, but god forbid I tell him to take a nap! He thinks he's...SuperOnew, Master Of Time And Space, able to leap from bed to bed in a single bound-" Taemin snapped his mouth shut, ripping a tear in his coffee sleeve sculpture.

 

"Sounds rough. I had an idea, if you'd like to hear it." Minho dances on eggshells around that comment. "What he, that is, what we all need right now, is a small break."

 

"A break? Now?" Onew slows to a stop when Minho mentions this the next morning. "Taemin will never go for it. He's got terrible stage fright. He even fumbles and hesitates over the simplest of basics, and whenever I even hint that he might need a quiet day for review, he...he looks at me like I just slapped him."

 

Minho took a sip of water before he replied. "He knows how important the, um, test is. He might be afraid that he'll let you down. But he won't admit that he needs a break unless we force him to take one."

 

"What are we supposed to do," Taemin moaned as he slumped dejectedly in his chair. "Kidnap him and force him to relax?"

 

"Kidnap is a strong word." Minho cleaned his glasses, the barest hint of a devious smile gracing his features. "I think 'enforced departure' works better, don't you?"

 

"But he has homework, and his friends, and all sorts of other things to do." Onew slowly relaced his running shoes; Minho could almost see the small gears turning in his head. "I think it'll just make him sullen and resentful."

 

"If you show enthusiasm and a burning desire to leave the world behind, just for one afternoon, I know he won't have it in him to get upset or angry. He cares about you too much for that."

 

Taemin hit him playfully on the arm. "You're so dense sometimes. He cares too much about us to get mad. How long is it going to take you to understand that you're trapped now, huh?" He hooked his feet under Minho's knees, pulling his chair closer to the table. Minho slid his glasses back on in a feeble attempt to hide a very unmanly blush.

 

"Are you in? I know how busy you are right now, so leave the details to me. You just have to show up at the appointed time and make sure he comes with you. Oh, and you also have to act like you have no idea what's going on."

 

Onew chuckled. "I think I can manage that." He tugged Minho down for the swiftest of kisses. "Thank you for doing this. It'll be good for him to get away for a while."

 

********

 

On the appointed day, Minho pulled up to Onew's apartment in a rented car so compact that he had to unfold himself like a jack-in-the-box just to get himself out of it. Onew and Taemin waited at the curb with hilariously identical expressions of doubt, but when they looked at each other they both pasted on sunny smiles.

 

"You got me, Minho. What's all this?" Onew took an experimental kick at one of the tires. Taemin's gaze immediately latched on to the item in the backseat.

 

"Is that a picnic basket?" Taemin stared as if it was a mythical animal he'd never seen before. "An honest to goodness picnic basket?" Minho opened the passenger side doors and motioned for the gaping young men to get inside.

 

"Yes, and if we want to get a good spot we have to hurry." Minho beamed at both of them, excitement welling up in every gesture he made. "Get in, get in! We're wasting sunlight!"

 

Again, Taemin and Onew started to look like they were having second thoughts, but they gamely carried on in case the other happened to be watching. Minho refolded himself into the driver's seat, laughing off Onew's offer to drive, and with a mildly worrying sputter they pulled into traffic and on to the open road.

 

Minho coaxed the radio into working, secretly smiling as Onew and Taemin flipped stations with endless zeal. He meandered over winding highways, pushing the little car past the familiar exits until they reached the suburbs. After a good hour of seemingly aimless driving, Minho pulled onto the gravel lined road leading to a hidden field surrounding a quaint little pond. The grass was long and soft, untouched by the cruel blades of landscapers and dotted here and there with vibrantly hued flowers. The cerulean pond teamed with the sparkling splashes of wildlife darting in and out of the water.

 

"It's a scene out of a picture book." Onew hung out of the window after Minho parked the car, as if he was afraid the landscape would disappear should he open the door. Taemin had no such compunctions; his shoes and socks flew off the moment his feet hit the ground, and off he flew, doing cartwheels just because he could. Minho allowed himself a whispered "Victory!" under his breath as he lugged the basket out of the backseat.

 

"Oh damn, here, let me help with that-" Onew hastily undid his seatbelt and got out of the car, but Minho firmly shook his head.

 

"You're here to relax, remember? I've got everything under control. And see? Taemin's doing great, but if you don't join him soon he'll suspect something's up." Minho winked at him, waddling out into the field with a boyish grin.

 

"I know, I know. Will you tell me what's in there at least? That thing is huge!"

 

"Not much really." Minho reached what he estimated to be the perfect spot, nestling the basket in an extra cushiony patch of grass. "There’s cold chicken inside it, cold ham, cold beef, picked gherkins..." He glanced up at Onew to see if he caught the joke, and from the wide-eyed expression on his face, he did.

 

"You didn't. Minho. You didn't really-"

 

"-salad, french rolls, cress sandwidges, ginger beer, lemonade..."

 

"A Wind In The Willows picnic?" Onew stared at him, his expression caught somewhere between incredulous and vastly amused. "The next thing you're going to tell me is that the pond has-"

 

"DUCKS! Guys, come see! There are little baby ducks!" Taemin waved frantically from the edge of the water, his smile so wide it turned his eyes into crescents. Onew wavered a bit unsteadily on his feet, his face flushed as if the entire world just fell out from under his feet.

 

"...who are you?" The question caught Minho completely off guard, and he fumbled as he unrolled the blanket.

 

"I...I just thought this would be nice. Just the three of us...um. I can just, let me pack this, we can go-" An unpleasantly familiar crushing feeling walloped Minho in the chest as a world of self-doubt crashed into him. This was childish and stupid, how did he even come up with such a crude idea, he finally stumbled into something good and he just ruined it.

 

"Stop. That came out wrong, put the blanket down, I mean it. What I meant was, you came out of nowhere and you don't...you don't follow any of the rules!" It came out a nearly desperate cry, but strangely enough, Onew was laughing the whole time. Minho felt at a complete loss, but some primitive survival instinct told him that if he stayed still long enough and held his breath, the scary thing might just pass him by.

 

"What part of 'there are cute fuzzy yellow adorable ducks' did you two not understand? Whoa. Tears, tears are bad, Minho what did you do? The plan was to get him to relax, not send him into a nervous breakdown!"

 

"I didn't, I mean, I wasn't trying to-"

 

"I'm sorry. The plan was to get me to relax? Taemin, we're here so that you can take a break from studying. We were worried about you."

 

"Me?! But you're the one who-"

 

"Maybe we all needed this?" Minho shrunk back a little as two sets of eyes caught him in a stern gaze. "It was my idea, a sort of Lover's Day, and I thought it would help. Since I can't help with...other things, I wanted to do this for you, at least."

 

A cotton-soft silence filled the air, interrupted only by a floral-scented breeze carrying the rustle-ruffle of distant duck feathers. In the blink of an eye, Taemin launched himself at Minho, tumbling them over and knocking his glasses off into the grass.

 

"Can we keep him? Can we? He's a little thick in the head but he's so cute, and I promise to feed him and pet him every day!" Taemin wrapped himself around Minho and squeezed, ignoring the fact that the man under him was gasping for breath.

 

"Well Mr. Toad, it will be a great responsibility, but I think arraignments could be made." Onew laughed and wiped his face, not even caring that he was getting grass stains on his slacks. Minho stopped squirming, the cold crushing weight on his chest replaced by one much more welcome as Onew flopped beside them and added his weight to the pile. And it amazed him how the word "kept" enraptured him a million times more than the word "lovers"; if "lovers" carried the siren call of the far away and mysterious, then "kept" had the sweet, tangible relief of coming home again.

 

"Hey, just a minute..."

 

"Hmm?"

 

"...why the hell did you just call me a toad?!"

 

 


	9. Murphy's Law Will Catch You Every Time

_Two weeks later_

 

The three initiates sat in relative silence, absorbing the austere atmosphere around them with utmost seriousness. Taemin knew that this was mostly ceremonial in nature, tradition passed down from the era of ancient kings and courtly graces, but sitting in this candlelit room barefoot, wearing nothing but a sepia cotton shift, made him feel vaguely like a human sacrifice.

 

The alabaster room was empty save for three sitting cushions on a polished hardwood floor, a low table with a large, oval shaped glass bowl, and an incense burner spreading the rich scent of frankincense. The bowl was filled with water and cobalt-blue floating candles; bronze sconces held matching spiral-shaped candles. The effect was supposed to help the initiates attain a sense of calm focus, but in reality it was just a trifle boring.

 

To his left, Key arranged himself into a sinuous but comfortable position, unconsciously bringing up a hand to fuss with his perfectly coiffed bangs. A barely audible mewl came from Taemin’s right; he turned his head to see Minzy suppressing a teasing smirk. Both of the boys hid smiles behind their hands, but they answered with their own hushed meows.

 

One of their hapless trainers dubbed the trio “Three Little Kittens” due to their looks, insatiable curiosity, and miraculous ability to “misplace” things they didn’t want to deal with. Of course, they responded with a chorus of harmonized meows that spurred them into a fit of laughter and made their trainer facepalm.

 

Over time it became one of their long-running inside jokes, a solid point of reference even when they became apprentices and went their separate ways.

 

But at the end of the night, all that would be over. The friendship formed in the midst of hard work and reaching for the same goal with all their might would dissolve in the glasses of congratulatory wine.

 

They would be rivals.

 

The solitary door slid open, revealing a doughy man in hanbok carrying a clipboard. He pointed at Taemin and sharply gestured at him to come forward. Taemin held his head high as he rose to his feet, keeping his eyes trained on the path in front of him despite the tingle of his companions’ gazes on his back.

 

He followed the man down a series of brightly lit hallways lined with stiff, officious looking portraits of previous Jingols. Hanging in the place of honor at the end of the hall above a set of arched double doors was a portrait of the current Jingol, Lee Soo Man. Taemin knew it was just oil paint and canvas, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that Soo Man would lean down from his lofty perch and light him on fire with laser eye beams.

 

Doughy opened the door just wide enough to let Taemin slip through. Taemin schooled his face into neutrality, taking exactly three seconds to scan his surroundings and become familiar with them. According to the Guide, he should be able to look comfortable anywhere, even if he’d never been there before.

 

The enormous room held a walnut four-poster bed, comfortably arrayed with mounds of ebony and silver pillows and satin coverlets. A gleaming Waterford crystal chandelier dappled light through the entire space, and the dove-colored carpet was so plush that Taemin left footprints behind him when he walked. A matching antique walnut armoire stood open, revealing several lengths of rope, shelves of glass bottles, and displays of mysterious instruments.

 

The swaths of classy decadence weren’t what grabbed Taemin’s attention. What he was more interested in was the row of people lining the north wall of the room, obscured slightly by a shadow cast from the door that Taemin entered from .

 

There were thirteen in total, each one holding a fountain pen and a tablet with a piece of parchment paper. They were each seated on what appeared to be velvet cushions spaced evenly apart. Some of them Taemin recognized as Majors: Leeteuk’s eyes radiated with benevolence despite his professional demeanor, Sunny was already making notes, and Yunho was tapping the end of his pen against the side of his lip. The others must have been high rank administrators and investors, judging from their severe suits and flinty demeanors.

 

Taemin automatically fell into the series of bows for the proper greetings, allowing the ritualistic give and take to put his body on autopilot while the rest of his brain fought off a wave of nervous panic. There were rumors that a panel judged you during your final Test, but no one had ever said that they would actually be in the room with you when it happened!

 

All too soon the formal greetings were over and Doughy opened a side door on the east side of the room. A man Taemin never saw before swaggered in, disarmingly casual in his Starter cap slung low over his face and baggy jeans hung even lower on his sculpted hips. His shoulders were broad, his chest and abs looked like they were airbrushed right out of a magazine and the smile that quirked from beneath the brim of that hat had the power to melt ice.

 

This was Taemin’s first practice “client”.

 

He knew he only had a fraction of time to read the man’s demeanor, body language, and hidden signals and come to a decision about how best to behave. The hair on the back of Taemin’s neck raised sightly as his perceptive senses and near photographic memory kicked in at high speed: the man gave off an aura of a player, used to people playing up the seduction card to impress him.

 

He walked in the room leading with his hips, an unconscious motion to draw attention to his groin and accentuate his torso, drawing focus away from the fact that he wasn’t very tall. But if he was a “client”, there was something he wasn’t getting that he was willing to shell out a lot of money for.

 

The sum of the images hit him in a flash: baseball cap over the eyes, deliberate street attire, confident but syrupy smile. If he was looking for elegance and beauty, he would’ve picked Key. Therefore, he wanted to play at inexperience. If he wanted someone to act the “virgin”, then Minzy would’ve been the best choice. But he chose Taemin, and there was a reason why.

 

Taemin knew exactly how to handle this.

 

Before the man had made it halfway across the room, Taemin was showing off his dimples. He bounced across the room, coming just short of the stranger’s personal space and looking at him like he thought the sun shone out of his ass.

 

“H-hyung! You came!” Taemin ignored the sound of pen nubs scratching on paper and stayed in character. Taemin swallowed softly, pretending that it was Onew standing in front of him looking inordinately pleased at the honorific.

 

He led the “client” to the bed and sat next to him, chattering nonsense about his mom being out of town, raiding the liquor cabinet, and a few more people would come by later for a house party, didn’t that sound fun? The whole time he silently prayed that he was right. Playing the unsuspecting dongsaeng was a very risky move, but if he was right, this guy would be eating out of the palm of his hand.

 

Sure enough, the baseball cap flew to the end of the bed, hitting one of the posts with a muffled thump. Taemin widened his eyes, following the red hat to where it lay. When he turned back to the client, he didn’t have to fake the nervous hitch to his giggle. The client leaned forward, crossing one arm over Taemin’s lower torso.

 

“Hyung?” Taemin bit his lower lip, but he didn’t pull away. He angled himself just enough to draw the client in closer without him noticing, maintaining a shy demeanor while allowing his body language to scream kiss me, please. It worked like a charm, and in the back of his head Taemin allowed himself a victory cry.

 

Now came the tricky part, maintaining the illusion of clumsy innocence to the client while still displaying a high level of skill to the panel. It would take a lot of cunning and off the cuff planning and if he faltered it could mean an automatic fail. But if he could pull it off, he’d be an initiate legend.

 

Onew would be so damn proud.

  
  
  


_Four months after initiation_

 

“Has anyone seen my-”

 

“In the hall closet, hanging in the dry cleaning bag.”

 

“I can’t find the-”

 

“Bedroom, second drawer of the nightstand. Where they always are.”

 

Minho calmly shined his shoes while Onew and Taemin ran in frantic circles around him. Onew’s apartment looked like it was hit by a tornado of wrapping paper, ribbon, and confetti; greeting cards lay scattered across tabletops like the survivors of some terrible storm of well wishes. There were even champagne flutes, mercifully empty, knocked over on their sides like felled trees of the finest crystal.

 

Minho continued to placidly rub shoeshine in tiny concentric circles around the heel of his dress shoe, a center of zen in a maelstrom of frenzied chaos. Taemin rushed past him for the third time, his graduation robe clutched in his arms as though he was afraid someone would take it away from him. Panic shone out of his eyes, the hours he spent at the salon getting his hair carefully styled rendered useless as he ran his fingers through it.

 

“I’m gonna puke. Minho, I’m gonna puke all over the stage, this is terrible. Why did you let me drink so much last night?!”

 

“Minho, they aren’t in there, I checked, and you know I can’t go without my lucky cuff-links.” Onew galloped into the room in his pajamas, flapping his arms in wild directions with an expression better suited for someone who accidentally set the kitchen curtains on fire. Minho sighed fondly, pushed his glasses up with the back of one hand, and got to his feet.

 

“Taemin, give me your gown, you won’t need it for another three hours. Go in the kitchen, drink a ginger ale and take a couple aspirin, then sit down until it’s time to get dressed.” He gently removed the crumpled bag from Taemin’s grip and kissed him on the forehead, pushing him toward the kitchen. “Your cuff-links are in the drawer. You put them in that jewelry case Sungmin got you after Taemin’s debut, just so that you wouldn’t keep misplacing them.”  

 

“Oh. Right.” Onew at least had the grace to look mildly sheepish as he slunk back to the bedroom. From the kitchen, the arrhythmic sound of hiccups floated out into the living room. Before Minho had a chance to get up and try patting Taemin on the back, the front door opened and Jjong casually strolled in, stepping over the clutter and debris like he didn’t even register it was there. Minho fought the urge to roll his eyes, but he did go back to polishing his shoe.

 

“You’re early.”

 

“You’re an ass, but you don’t see me pointing it out.” Jonghyun gave him a shining, toothy grin before bellowing at the top of his lungs. “Hey Taemin! Ready to pick up your expensive piece of paper?”

 

Minho rose halfway out of his chair, prepared to chuck his shoe at the back of Jonghyun’s head. Even if he missed smacking him in the back of his frosted layers, if he was lucky he could leave a nasty black streak down the back of Jjong’s oyster-gray pea-coat. Unfortunately, Taemin poked his head out of the kitchen, holding a half-empty glass of water. Minho didn’t miss the way Taemin’s eyes lit up at the sound of Jonghyun’s voice.

 

“Hyung! You *hic* made it!” Taemin swallowed another gulp of water, but to no avail: the hiccups stubbornly refused to disappear. Jjong shook his head.

 

“Aigoo. It amazes me that you can have sex in front of 13 people for your career, but walking across a stage makes you nervous.” His words were rough, but Taemin gave him the wibbly puppy eyes all the same. “You know the drill. Hands over your head. Good. Now stretch to the side. To the back. Other side. Did you know that Jinki once got so drunk he thought he was a goat and almost got arrested for grazing in his neighbor’s cabbage patch?”

 

“YAH! THAT’S A LIE, GODDAMMIT! STOP TELLING THAT STORY!” Onew bellowed from the bedroom over the sound of Taemin’s raucous laughter. Minho buried his face in his hands, but there was a bare twitch of a smile hidden there.

 

“Wow! They stopped!” Taemin beamed as he took a deep breaths. “Thanks! I don’t know how you do it, hyung.”

 

“I’m gifted, what can I say.” Jjong scooted Taemin to the side and made a beeline to the fridge. “God bless Miss Jung Joo-ri, woman never fails to make the best stuff. Best housekeeper he’s ever had.” Jonghyun crooned as he took tupperware out of the fridge. “Dok~bok~ki~, just for me~, oh so good.”

 

“You came this early just to raid our leftovers?” Minho didn’t know why he even bothered asking; Jonghyun ignored him in favor of grabbing a large bowl from the cupboard. Taemin shuffled from one foot to another, on the verge of finding something else to hyperventilate over, when Minho’s cell phone rang. He walked back in the living room, unearthing it from beneath a pile of shimmering gold and black wrapping paper.

 

“Choi. Jessica, it’s Sunday. There is nothing so important that...huh. Uh huh. Just... use the backup spreadsheets to copy the...yes, the backups.” Minho rubbed the side of his temple, unaware that the three other occupants of the apartment now hovered in the background, unabashedly listening to his side of the conversation.

 

“Listen, put...I know how important...put him on the phone. No, I can’t come in. I have a graduation to attend. Jessica, put him on the...hello?” Minho clenched his free hand into a fist.

 

“ Yes sir. I was explaining that...it starts at two, but...I was just explaining that I made backup spreadsheets on Friday before I left. They aren’t there? He deleted them?! Sorry sir, I just...this is a very important day for me sir and...”

 

Minho turned around to see Taemin and Onew staring at him. Onew’s gaze flickered back and forth from Minho’s mounting frustration to Taemin’s increasingly dangerous mix of anger and hysteria. Jjong leaned against the doorframe of the kitchen, bowl of rice in hand as though he was watching a preview for a new drama.

 

“...I’ll be there in a half-hour, sir. Yes. Goodbye.”

 

Onew quickly jumped in before the situation could turn explosive. “Minho, take your suit with you. Here are my keys, change at the office and come straight to the campus. Jjong, you’re giving us a ride there, so go clean out your backseat. Taemin, he’ll make it; this isn’t Minho’s fault, and now is not the time for a fit. You still have to shower and fix your hair, it looks like a bird’s nest. Alright people. Move!”

 

There was exactly one second of silence as Onew’s authoritative tone resonated through the condo before the other men scrambled to comply. Minho grit his teeth as he quickly zipped his suit into a travel bag, internally cursing the day he accepted the promotion under Noh Minwoo. It seemed like the man took a sick delight in seeing how far he could push his staff before coming up with something so brilliant that everyone forgave him.

 

As he grabbed the keys to the car and bolted to the door, Minho could just make out the tail end of Jjong comforting a sighing Onew.

 

“...don’t sweat it. Hey, at least you know you can always count on me, no matter what.”

  


“You’re upset, aren’t you?” Donghae draped over the back of Minho's office chair, blowing a puff of air into his bangs in a manner entirely too cute for a grown man. Minho took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose to stave off an impending headache, taking note of the time with increasing dread.

 

“It was an honest mistake, I promise. I just got so used to you naming the backup spreadsheets after fish, I always liked that, and then these were just boring titles so I thought that maybe they were just extras that weren’t finished yet, or maybe they had mistakes.”

 

“And you didn’t think to open the file and look at it?” Minho typed furiously, doing everything in his power to retain some level of calm. The energy wasted in yelling could be put towards actually fixing the issue at hand.

 

“But...but you always label the backups with fish names.” Donghae repeated himself as if that explanation alone was the answer to everything that went wrong. Never mind that Minho left a flash drive with the backup spreadsheets on his desk every two weeks without fail. Never mind that he wrapped said flash drive in a blue memo note with “IMPORTANT: For Donghae!!!” and placed it in the middle of his desk, same as he had done for the last three months.

 

“What did we learn from this?" Both men looked up to see Minwoo standing in the doorway, arms crossed as he surveyed the scene in front of him. “We learned that people, as a whole, are creatures of habit. We crave patterns and order, and when a pattern is disrupted, we seek ways to restore it or a means to move around the obstacle and create a new status quo.”

 

Minho leaned back in his chair, disbelief writ large on his features. “So what you’re saying is that because I didn’t put a cute name on the file, Donghae’s reaction was to restore order...by erasing our lifeline in case of an emergency, which makes this my fault?”

 

“We all appreciate the effort you put in to creating a backup,” Minwoo continued as if Minho hadn’t spoken. “But perhaps it might have been a tad more effective if you kept said backup on your own desk, don’t you think?”

 

“The whole point of having the backup is so that someone who wasn’t me could have access to any previous work done. That way, if something like today happened where we had a system crash, the person on duty could plug in my formulas and data.”

 

“I feel really bad about it.” Donghae wrung his hands as he looked back and forth between the two men; Minho felt some of his fury ebb. “I’ll be extra cautious from now on, I promise.”

 

“Thank you, Lee.” Minwoo slid to the side, clearly indicating that Donghae should leave the room. Minho saw dogs at the shelter less pitiful than Donghae as he quietly exited the room. As much as Minho had imagined the myriad ways he would make the man suffer on the hectic drive over, now he just wanted to forget that the whole incident  ever happened.

 

“Let’s have a quick chat, Minho.” Minwoo shut the door to the office, and Minho couldn’t help but glance at the clock. Time was running short, and he needed every spare minute he could get if we wanted to change and get to the campus on time.

 

“Do you mind if I type while we talk, sir?”

 

“No, not at all. I want to start by thanking you for your commitment and diligence in coming in today. Many people would have shirked it off until Monday.” Minho paused, his fingers mid-stroke.

 

“Sir? I didn’t get the impression that I had a choice in the matter.”

 

“Why put off tomorrow what can be done today? I’m sure you could have come in early, but better safe than sorry, right?” Minwoo sat down and crossed his legs, studying Minho with a perfectly placid expression. It took everything Minho had to keep his own flash of anger under wraps.

 

“In light of today’s indiscretion, I want to set up a new policy. From now on, just bring your work directly to me. Don’t misunderstand,” Minwoo held up a hand; Minho must have made an incredulous noise of some sort. “I’m not micromanaging you by any means. It’s the opposite. You are one of the few competent employees I can actually trust. It’s one of the reasons I pulled so many strings to get you here.”

 

There was a slight churning in Minho’s stomach with his words. He already received a number of skeptical looks when he joined this team, surpassing several dozen people waiting hungrily for the position. Now the stigma of “playing favorites” was going to become even worse. But there was nothing he could do about it; it wasn’t like he was in a position to say no, or quit.

 

“We understand each other then. Fantastic.” Minwoo got to his feet, nodding as though they just had a conversation about the weather. “Have this tidied up before you go, and from now on, backup files on my desk *every* Friday. I’m particularly fond of sweets, if you need an idea for file names.” Minho nodded his agreement, waiting until Minwoo left the office before taking a small silver flask from his desk drawer and downing a few hard gulps of Remy Martian VSOP.

 

By the time Minho actually finished, he found he had forty minutes to get to the campus. If traffic was kind to him he could make it in twenty with only a minimum of speeding. He hopped in Onew’s 2011 Alfa Romero Giulietta and peeled out of the parking lot, praying to the gods of traffic karma and Italian craftsmanship to bless him on his journey.

 

The gods weren’t listening today.

 

 


	10. The Prices We Are Willing To Pay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for violence, abusive language, and emotional manipulation. This chapter is rough, folks.

“Still don’t see him. No sign. Nope.” Jjong scanned the crowd in what seemed like a lazy manner, but in reality, he was sweeping the entire auditorium for any sign of Minho. As tall as he was, he shouldn’t be too difficult to spot, but there didn’t seem to be a trace of him yet.

 

Onew was also squinting at the sea of faces, his hands clenched tightly in his lap. The ceremony would begin in ten minutes, soon they would open the doors and the graduates would begin their proud but somber procession march. If Taemin looked out into the audience and didn’t see Minho there, it would a huge damper on the whole ceremony. Suddenly Jjong stiffened, his eyes widening comically as he turned back around in his seat.

 

“Jinki?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Did you give Leetuek an invitation?”

 

Onew frowned as he thought. “Of course, months ago. He said he couldn’t make it; he had an appointment he couldn’t miss today.”

 

“Apparently he made it after all. He’s here with Kangin, and they’re coming our way.” Jjong faked a yawn, using the hand in his lap to point in the direction they were coming from. Sure enough, Leetuek was easy enough to spot in his niveous custom tailored suit, so brilliant a white that it cast him in an angelic glow. Kangin made a striking contrast in his ebony attire, a dull crimson necktie the only relief to the stark layers of black.

 

A cold wave of dread washed over Onew, rendering him immobile. Now this was officially a disaster. No one was supposed to know about Minho, especially not a Major like Leetuek. If caught, he, Taemin, and Jjong were all royally fucked. Even if Leetuek decided to be forgiving and look the other way, Kangin certainly wouldn’t.

 

The last time one of Leetuek’s boys decided to have a secret lover that wasn’t part of the Business, the poor man was given a one way ticket back to China in several crates. Onew was younger then, but he could still remember the screeching, inhuman sounds Heechul made to this day. Time probably hadn’t softened their stance on the issue.

 

Onew quickly put himself into show mode, softening his features into one of boredom and pulling out his cell phone. He scrolled until he found Minho’s phone number. No time to call, so he hurriedly sent a message. All he could hope for now is that Minho would get it in time and find a spot in the back where he wouldn’t draw attention to himself.

 

*~*~*~*~*~

 

“Ahjusshi! You aren’t gonna call the police are you? I promise I’ll do whatever it takes to get that scratch fixed, my boyfriend is in a band and the drummer is a mechanic, so I can get it done before you blink!” The young girl peered up at Minho with a look that reminded him strongly of the cat from Shrek, but it only made his headache worse.

 

“Just forget about it, I’m really in a hurry. If you’re feeling alright, could you please move your scooter?” Minho tried to ask as politely as possible, checking his watch with a growing sense of dread. Neighbors were starting to come out of their yards to investigate, the last thing he needed right now.

 

In the span of thirteen blocks, Minho hit 4 red lights, a traffic jam that reduced his speed to a crawl, missing a green light at a one lane street because the man in front of him was on his cell phone and wouldn’t move no matter how much he honked, and having to follow the world’s worst detour due to roadwork in front of the turn he needed to make. Now he was stuck on a residential street because some delivery girl tried to squeeze past him and succeeded in leaving a long scratch along the side of Onew’s car.

 

“Yah, wait just a second sweetheart, don’t let him intimidate you just because he’s in a nice suit and driving a fancy car!”

 

A fat, balding man in a faded pair of boxers and a stained yellow tank top huffed and puffed his way up to them, his piggish eyes alight with the opportunity for drama. “I know his type. You just take your time and make sure you don’t have any injuries. And you! Shame on you; looking down on her just because she’s poor.”

 

“I wasn’t…”

 

“What do you know about her hard life, huh?! She’s here every morning before dawn, delivering milk, kimbap, newspapers, and rice porridge to the sick!” An elderly woman shook a bony fist at him, as if he were some sort of terrible villain. Never mind that this supposed saint on a scooter was entirely at fault.

 

“That’s very admirable, but I really have to be going…”

 

“Poor thing is all alone in the world,” a pregnant woman continued, bracing herself against a nearby brick wall so that she could glare at Minho properly. “Both of her parents were killed by a terrible illness that left them paralyzed and unable to call for help while their house burned down around them…”

 

“IT’S MY BOSS’S CAR! AND IF I’M NOT BACK WITH IT IN 10 MINUTES I’M FIRED ALRIGHT?!”

 

Minho flung his hands in the air, got back in the car with a frustrated cry, and simply drove off, leaving a stunned group of spectators behind.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

“Lee Sam-soon…Lee Song-yi…”

 

Leetuek gave Onew’s hand an excited squeeze as he brought out his camera, preparing to take Taemin’s picture as soon as his name was called. Onew already had his phone out, ostensibly to snap pictures of his apprentice as he sat amongst the other members of his class and upload them directly to Twitter.

 

In reality he was desperately checking his messages to find out if Minho got his text. At this rate he might be able to breathe easy; if Minho was this late, he probably wouldn’t make it at all. As if to spite him, the back doors of the auditorium opened mere seconds before the dean called Lee Taemin to the stage.  

 

The next few moments seemed to happen in slow motion. Cameras flashed as Taemin got to his feet. Minho’s voice echoed around the room as he cheered raggedly and applauded. Most of the audience turned in their seats to gawk at the person who dared break the “no applause until the end” rule just as Minho realized that no one else was clapping. Jjong’s palm connected with his forehead; Taemin’s face stuck between embarrassment and happiness as he shook the dean’s hand. Kangin frowned and looked over at Leetuek; the Major had his most severe Disapproving Face on.

 

“Onew…who is that?” Leetuek whispered as Taemin continued to walk across the stage, shaking hands with his other professors. Onew snapped another picture of Taemin, ready to respond with a pithy answer, when Jjong jumped in to try and save the day.

 

“Heh, just an old client of Taemin’s.” Jjong shook his head and sighed wearily. “Guy just doesn’t get the concept of ‘make an appointment’. I’ll take care of it.” Jjong stood up and inched his way to the end of the aisle, apologizing softly the whole way. Jjong really wasn’t as slick as he thought he was sometimes; Kangin raised an eyebrow, and with a nod from Leetuek, he got to his feet and followed after him.

 

Onew gave Leetuek a tense smile; he couldn’t refute it without casting suspicion on himself, so he went back to his phone and sent Minho another frantic text under the cover of fiddling with a picture message. When he glanced over his shoulder, he saw that Kangin had caught up with Jjong and seemed to be giving him an order before flanking around to Minho’s left. The younger Auxiliary seemed torn for a second before making his way to Minho’s right hand side.

 

Onew could only sit in bone-chilling dread as a beaming Minho jumped a little, pulled his phone out of his pocket, and scrunched his face in confusion as he poked at the screen. Onew could almost tell exactly what message he was reading from the varying levels of terror that crossed his face:

 

_Major here, stand in the back and don’t be seen, we’ll meet up with you after the ceremony._

 

_Where are you?? Major showed up. Stay at the office, will make it up to Taemin later!_

 

_stay outside, too dangerous_

 

_run!!!!_

 

By some twist of fate, Minho and Onew locked eyes a split second before Minho noticed Jjong coming towards him. To his credit, Minho managed to duck out the way he came in without drawing too much attention to himself. Sadly, he wasn’t fast enough; Kangin and Jjong were swiftly on his tail.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Jonghyun had to give Minho some credit: for a weedy accountant, the guy was awfully fast on his feet. The three of them lead a merry chase through the building: Minho ducking and weaving while Kangin nipped at his heels like a hellhound. Jonghyun pumped his legs, trying to anticipate where Minho would run so he could find a shortcut.

 

Jonghyun’s plan to catch up with Minho and tell him to take his skinny ass home would have gone off without a hitch, but nooo, His UnHoliness had a bug up his butt and just couldn’t let it go. Now Kangin, as Head Auxiliary and the closest thing to a security force on the scene, was duty bound to chase Minho down and make him wish he’d never been born and since Kangin outranked Jonghyun, he had to follow orders and go along with him.

 

Minho appeared to be lost, running out of sheer panic and not paying much attention to where he was going. Kangin didn’t know the layout of the school either, relying completely on keeping Minho in his sights. Jonghyun could use that to his advantage.

 

Suddenly, Minho ducked into a second building, buying himself time by turning over a few trashcans in his wake. Jonghyun motioned to Kangin, noting that he was going to use the utility stairs with a swift hand gesture. The older man nodded, clearing the obstacles between him and his prey with relative ease.

 

Meanwhile, Jonghyun was silently thankful for all the snore-worthy recitals and school activities that Taemin pouted him into coming to. He didn’t bother running down the stairs; instead, he jumped in the claustrophobic space between the staircases, his peacoat flaring dramatically as he fell eight stories straight down. It was enough to make a grown man cry, the way no one was around to see when he pulled off action star bullshit like this.

 

He caught the railing with both hands right before he landed on the ground. It hurt like hell, but better a strained shoulder than a broken leg. Once his feet touched the ground, he opened the door to a long hallway and took off like a shot. At the other end, all he had to do was wait for the sound of footsteps.

 

Sure enough, Minho came fumbling down soon after, taking advantage of his long legs to just jump down sets of stairs. Jonghyun waited, half-hidden, until Minho blindly ran by.

 

All Jonghyun had to do was reach out, grab Minho by the back of the collar, and apply one solid blow to the back of his head to knock him out. 

 

*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Minho’s world narrowed down to a sharp, vicious pain across his jaw. An insistent throbbing in the back of his skull joined in, a deep, dull ache that only heightened the sting and the bitter taste of iron in his mouth. He cracked open his eyes, holding his head as he tried to move into a sitting position. His vision was blurry, but the rolling chair legs and smell of waxed linoleum suggested that he was in a classroom. They were still at the school.

 

“Don’t bother.” Minho didn’t even have time to react to the sound of Jjong’s voice before a walloping kick connected with his ribs, driving the air out of his lungs. As he lay on the linoleum, gasping for air, Jjong delivered an almost lazy dropkick to Minho’s hip, letting gravity and the heel of his dress boot do most of the work.

 

Minho found enough air to scream foul words as he tried to roll away from his attacker, but he only managed to flop over on his stomach before Jjong pressed his foot on the tender lump on the back of Minho’s skull.

 

“Keep still, idiot. I’m trying to help you. Here’s the deal. I’m gonna take Onew’s keys, tell everyone I taught you a lesson, and that you went off to lick your wounds. As far as they know, you are a lovestruck client who just crossed the line, and it’s gonna stay that way.”

 

“Fuck you, g-get off! What the hell is your problem?!” Minho blindly tried to reach back and grab Jjong’s leg, but the other man twisted his shoe just enough to make stars appear behind Minho’s eyes.

 

“Stop wriggling, dammit! Fucking dumbass; keep it up and you’ll get the attention of the man who’ll actually kill you. You don’t want that, right? ‘Course not. “

 

“Bastard.” Minho finally went limp, breathing harshly as he tried to collect his wits and make the room stop tilting perilously. “Why didn’t you just help me hide?” There was a moment of silence, stifling even the faint wheeze of Minho’s breathing and the steady repetitive tick of the clock on the wall.

 

“Why?” Jjong removed his foot and crouched down. “Mmm. Following orders? Making my story credible? Those are logical reasons, don’t you think?” He got down on his knees, grabbing Minho by the hair and pulling up until they were eye level. “Besides, I’ve become rather fond of my head being attached to my body.” There was no trace of his usual smirk, no indication that he wasn’t deadly serious about what he was saying.

 

“Let me make something crystal clear. This isn’t a fairy tale.”

 

Jjong’s expression was sharp as his tone. “My boys are putting more than their jobs on the line by being with you, they’re risking life and limb. At the end of the day, no matter what pretty label you put on it, they’re whores. Every minute of their time is available for purchase, and every minute spent with you takes money out of our pockets.”

 

Any muscle in Minho’s body that wasn’t tensed already locked up with the acknowledgement of that unspoken fact. He didn’t want to give Jjong the satisfaction of seeing him react, but he didn’t have the ability to hide his emotions well enough. Jjong brought their faces even closer, nostrils flaring as if he could smell the outrage and vexation coming out of Minho’s pores.

 

“I’m sorry, am I being cruel? Good. Somebody has to be, otherwise you’re gonna walk out of your office one day and wind up dinner for Lee Soo Man’s pet piranhas.”

 

There was a brittle look in Jjong’s eyes that Minho didn’t think him capable of, a cold resentment worn down by time and hard living into a hidden blade of impotent rage. It terrified him in a way that the physical beating couldn’t even touch. The acidic taste of fear welled up in the back of his throat as he realized that Jjong was not only capable of murder, but willing to do so if he felt he needed to.

 

Jjong reached into his pocket for his wallet, counted out a generous amount of bills, and tucked them inside Minho’s shirt pocket. “Now, you’re gonna take this money, call a cab, and get your ass to the hospital. And for fuck’s sake, don’t go back to Onew’s place until one of us calls you. Understand?”

 

Minho just stared at Jonghyun, trying to process all that was happening.“That’s one of the things that pisses me off about you the most, Choi. You walk around with your head in the clouds, figuring that if you give the world a proverbial hand-job, then everyone will play nice with you. It doesn’t work that way.” Minho flinched when he saw Jjong reach into his coat again, but soon the cool, comforting weight of his glasses slid onto his eyes. Jjong’s hand reached into Minho’s coat and rummaged around until it located Onew’s car keys.

 

“Don’t worry about paying back the hospital fees. I’ll just get it from Jinki.”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Jonghyun found Kangin catching his second wind over by the cafeteria, only the small patches of sweat darkening the fabric under his arms and around his collar giving away his exertion. The older man glared at Jonghyun expectantly as he approached, but Jjong avoided his eyes, concentrating on the insistent ache in his shoulder.

 

“All clear.” Jonghyun gingerly leaned on the wall. “Son of a bitch might’ve dislocated my shoulder, but he won’t be coming around anymore. Hey, be a pal, could you…FUCK! Owowow!”

 

“Pussy.” Kangin popped Jonghyun’s shoulder the rest of the way in, feeling around the joint with cold professionalism. “Getting a bit too old to keep thinking you’re Jet-Li, buddy. Oh, you’ve got some blood right here. “

 

“Thanks. Least it’s not mine, right?” The two men walked back to the auditorium, adjusting themselves to look presentable. Jonghyun waited a beat or two before speaking. “What crawled up Teukie’s ass and died? That was a little excessive for a weedy dork with a hard-on, dontcha think?”

 

“Ryewook.” Kangin sighed the weary sigh of a simple man who dealt with high-maintenance people on a daily basis. “Some creepy fucker broke into his place last month. He stole, get this, his toothbrush, underwear and his bedsheets.”

 

“That’s…all manner of fucked up.”

 

“Scared the hell out of everybody. Teukie’s been strung out ever since. Can’t say I blame him, but…” Kangin shrugged with one shoulder, and Jonghyun knew the conversation was over. This didn’t bode well at all. Leetuek might act like an overbearing parent at times, but he was smart. If the Major’s mild sense of paranoia extended further, Onew and Taemin might find themselves under the microscope.

 

The grassy lawn of the campus was filled to overflowing with people taking snapshots, hugging, crying, and celebration. The two Auxiliaries wove through the noisy crowd like two sharks through a school of fish; people instinctively moved out of their path without fully realizing why. But by the time they reached the rest of their party, they’d adopted the air of two friends who wandered off to share an illicit cigarette around the corner.  

 

While Leetuek fussed over Taemin, harassing Kangin to take just a few more pictures, Jonghyun stealthily slipped Onew the keys to his car. Onew tried to read his face, not daring to ask questions with the Major so close by, but Jonghyun wore his mask of amused affection far too well.

 

“Onew! We’re stealing Taemin!” Leetuek strolled over with the graduate in tow, genuine pride shining out of his eyes. “I got him a present, but it was far too large to lug all the way here. So you two,” he pointed at Onew and Jonghyun, “are gonna follow us back to my house, and Taemin’s riding with us. And don’t dawdle, either!”

 

“Of course.” Onew managed a chuckle as he clutched his keys. “Just give me a few extra minutes to remember where I parked…”

 

“Onew…honestly! Taemin, I’m sure you remember, don’t you?” Leetuek looked at the young man expectantly and Jonghyun felt his mouth go dry.

 

“I rode with Jjong.” Taemin lied smoothly. “I needed to get here early and I didn’t want to listen to trot the whole way, so…sorry.” Jonghyun had to give the kid credit, he was so smooth that it nearly took him by surprise.

 

“Don’t worry, you all go ahead and I’ll drive Mr. Forgetful around the campus until we find his car.” Jonghyun slung an arm over Onew’s shoulders with a wink and immediately regretted it as a lance of pain shot from his shoulder to the middle of his back. Everyone noticed it. No one said a word to acknowledge it.

 

As the group split up, Onew gently put his arm around Jonghyun’s shoulder instead, kneading the giant knot there until it began to submit to the pressure. Jonghyun shamelessly leaned against him as they walked, his mouth slightly open as Onew’s fingers began to work their magic.

 

“Leetuek planned a surprise party, didn’t he?”

 

“Ummph. Doesn’t he always? Move down a little, to the left. Ow,there…ahhh.”

 

Onew stayed silent the rest of the walk to the car, but Jonghyun wasn’t fooled for a moment. He was just biding his time, gathering his thoughts to wield as weapons when the time was right. Jonghyun just enjoyed the free massage while he could, playing the happy puppy until Onew was ready to engage in a battle of wits.

 

“How bad is it?” Onew slid into the passenger seat, barely waiting until the door was closed before turning to Jonghyun with a fierce expression. The driver calmly started the car before answering.

 

“He’s on his way to a hospital. I said you’d call when it was safe.”

 

“You sent him to the hospital?! Jjong, what the hell did Kangin do to him?!”

 

“It wasn’t him. It was me.”

 

Jonghyun circled the lot slowly, keeping his eyes peeled for Onew’s car. “And he’s lucky that it was. You know how Kang can get…”

 

“Wait. Wait.” Onew braced his hands on the dashboard. “Start over.”

 

“Simple. I caught up with him first and dragged him to a hiding spot. I might’ve knocked him around a little, for appearance’s sake, but I gave him some cash so he could catch a cab to the hospital. He’ll be fine. “

 

Onew hissed and buried his face in his hands. “You still didn’t answer me. How bad is it?”

 

“Gosh, you’re welcome, Jinki. I didn’t mind breaking orders for you, yet again, or ruining my new coat. What are friends for?”

 

“Do you think this is a fucking joke?!” Onew slammed a fist against the dashboard, and Jjong brought the car to a dead stop, ignoring the sound of horns around him.

 

“Am I laughing? That was nearly the end of us back there! If he got to Minho first, you would’ve been lucky to find his ass in a dumpster still breathing.” Jonghyun gripped the steering wheel tight enough to turn his knuckles white. “I have bent over backwards for the three of you; don’t you fucking dare talk down to me.”

 

“You beat him.” Onew didn’t raise his voice; instead it dropped an octave, swirling deep and treacherous as a riptide in the dark. “Appearances? Yah, do you think I’m stupid?! Even if Kangin saw him bloodied up, you think he would just let him go, no questions?” Jonghyun clenched his jaw and moved the car, scanning the parking lot so that he wouldn’t have to look Onew in the eye.

 

“You did it because you wanted to. Did you think I wouldn’t notice the animosity you’ve had towards him? You aren’t exactly trying very hard to hide it.”

 

“Why should I?”

 

It was a simple question, blunt and to the point but it seemed to knock the wind out of Onew’s sails. Jonghyun circled over to the second lot, pressing his advantage.

 

“Look at this logically for a second. I’m busting ass to cover tracks, Taemin’s career could be over before he gets a start and he hasn’t even begun to pay off his debts yet, and you could lose everything in one sweep…”

 

“I’ll retire.”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

Onew ran his fingers through his hair, a shell shocked expression on his face as though he couldn’t believe he said the words out loud. Jonghyun only had to glace over at him, at the unshed tears in his eyes and the determined set to his jaw to know that the gears in his mind were turning at a thousand miles an hour.

 

“Don’t do anything hasty just because you’re feeling emotional or whatever. You’re spitting distance from becoming a Major, and we both know that you could turn the whole damn district around. Isn’t this what you were working for? Isn’t this your dream; how could you even think about giving it up over some guy?” Jonghyun smacked Onew on the back of the head with one hand, Onew just flopped his body forward with the impact.

 

“And before you talk big about being a martyr, did you ask Minho what he’s willing to give up? Hmm? Did you ask him if he’s willing to constantly look over his shoulder, if he’s ok with having enemies?” Jonghyun could feel Onew shaking in the seat next to him, but he kept his eyes trained out the window. If he saw tears, he wouldn’t be able to get this out.

 

“We explained that it would be risky…”

 

“Bet you didn’t fully explain to him what this life is really like, ‘cause if you had, he sure as fuck wouldn’t have stuck around.” There was hitch to Onew’s breathing that told Jonghyun he was right. He really wished he wasn’t. “Now that he’s had a taste, ask him what he wants to do. You saw it today; when it comes down to life with you and being normal, he doesn’t have the backbone to stick it out by your side.”

 

“That doesn’t matter.” Onew’s voice trembled, but his words were resolute. “You know why? Because he made me feel like a human being instead of just a commodity.” Jonghyun’s own words came back to pierce him in the heart as Onew raided his glove box for a napkin to wipe his tears away with.

 

“For first time in my life, someone loved me for just being Lee Jinki. He made me realize that doing this all these years hasn’t rendered me incapable of Love. Minho could leave me tomorrow, and I’ll still treasure that feeling, because it means more to me than anything else in the world. I’ll fight for that, even if I’m fighting alone.”

 

Jonghyun had nothing to say to that; even if he did, the words wouldn’t make it past the lump in his throat. They finally made it to the backrow of the parking lot next to the soccer field, where Onew’s car was parked haphazardly on a patch of grass next to the last parking spot.

 

Before Onew could open the door, Jonghyun reached out blindly and grabbed Onew’s hand, lacing their fingers together. Onew squeezed his hand twice in quick succession, a non-verbal apology, and Jonghyun did the same before letting go. As he pulled away, he wiped his eyes on his coat.

 

There was blood on his sleeve. No way that was coming out anytime soon.

 

 

 

 


	11. Let Me Find Home In Your Arms

Minho woke up in his own apartment around two in the morning, barely remembering how he got there. There was a strong possibility that he simply passed out as soon as he got home since he was wearing his blood-stained clothing. He recalled the hours spent in the hospital, the staff members who pestered him to reveal how he got his injuries (he wouldn’t answer, opting to maintain a chilly silence until they gave in). The cab ride after that was a drugged haze of lights and people streaming outside his window. His cell phone constantly buzzed in his pocket the whole time; he ignored it.

 

As consciousness crept up on him, Minho took stock of the places that still hurt. A murky ache started up in his head, joined in by the myriad of bruises on his chest and hips. Each article of clothing he removed revealed another injury that made him flinch. He supposed he was lucky that the majority of his injuries weren’t open wounds, but he would be sore for days. By the time he tossed his pants into the laundry hamper, he was desperate for a long soak.

 

“Can someone run me a hot…bath…”

 

The muted sound of traffic was the only reply to his request. Minho stood in the dark, arms limp by his sides. The distance between him and the bathroom suddenly seemed to stretch on for miles. Each step put a crack in the shell of emotional numbness, allowing the things he didn’t want to deal with to drip out little by little.

 

One step: he’d never hurt this badly in his entire life, not even when he used to play soccer on a regular basis. Another step: If they wanted to break up with him, this was a shitty way to do it, hahaha. Are they tired of me already? Another step: They didn’t put Jjong up to this, did they? Were they afraid to say those things to my face?…no. That’s paranoia talking. Stumble: Did one of the Majors find out about them somehow? But they’d been so careful…

 

Minho was exhausted by the time he made it to the tub. He ran the water as hot as it would go, absentmindedly adding the bath salts Taemin got him as a souvenir after a weekend trip to Jeju Island. Guaranteed stress relief, the bottle proclaimed, soothe away the worries of the day. More than half the bottle made it in before it went hurtling toward the opposite wall, the glass shattering to mix glittering among the opaque crystals. That was a working trip; Taemin came back with a bite mark on his lower back. They didn’t talk about it. They never talked about work.

 

“At the end of the day, no matter what pretty label you put on it, they’re whores.”

 

This wasn’t news. Minho liked to think he had a pretty strong grip on the reality of his situation; but every purpling bruise and throbbing twinge dictated otherwise. Onew told him that no one could know that they were dating, that it was severely frowned upon because it could cause a number of complications. Taemin said that he liked the secretive nature of it; there was an added air of mystery and danger to the whole situation.

 

Minho heard that plenty of times before. Let’s just keep this between us; it’s nobody’s business, right, the others wouldn’t understand, you know how they are. We shouldn’t make this complicated, it’s about feeling good. Minho knew the whole speech by heart, and yet again he was the one getting hurt.

 

Wasn’t he?

 

If they were discovered…did that mean that Onew and Taemin might get beaten as well? Minho quickly tried to banish the images of Onew crumpled on a cold concrete floor in a puddle of his own blood, the sound of Taemin screaming obscenities as he struggled against unknown assailants in the background. But the awful scenario refused to budge, and it was with a sickening roll of the stomach that Minho fully realized that he was far from the only person in danger here.

 

Now he had to figure out just what the hell he was going to do about it.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Taemin snuck away from his own party for the fourth time in three hours to go check his phone. He hadn’t heard from Minho since the mild embarrassment at the graduation ceremony, although he was happy to know that the older man made it on time after all. Onew practically disappeared the moment he walked in the door of Leetuek’s mansion and made a round of greetings; Jjong seemed to be inexplicably avoiding him, but that could be attributed to the free food and open bar more than anything else.

 

It took a fair bit of skill to avoid Key (and his never-ending “I have someone you simply must say hello to”) and find a corner to hide in before Taemin pulled out his phone. There were plenty of messages waiting for him, congratulations in four different languages, but nothing from Minho. Taemin sent him another text, asking what he was up to and telling him he would try to find Onew and come home soon. He pressed the send button and waited, tapping his foot as he finished off his Jack and Coke. There was no reply.

 

Taemin scowled at his phone, checking the reception, when a familiar face flickered in his peripheral vision. He didn’t bother calling out; the music was loud, and there were too many people talking and laughing for him to be heard. Instead he ducked his head and got directly behind his target, slinging his arms around his waist and resting his head on his shoulder.

 

“Jinki, can we go yet? I miss Minho; I haven’t seen him all day. We’ve been here long enough, right?” Taemin didn’t miss the way Onew tensed in his arms or the way he held his breath just a beat too long for comfort. “What’s wrong? You don’t have to go talk shop or anything like that, do you?”

 

“No. Have you heard from him, did he call you?” There was a slight edge of hysteria in Onew’s voice that raised the hair on the back of Taemin’s neck. It wasn’t like Minho to not answer his phone, not if he wasn’t in the office. And even if he did get dragged back into work, he was the kind of guy that would at least leave a long, apologetic text letting them know.

 

“Um…I’ll double check. Don’t move; I’m using you for cover.” Taemin let go and pulled out his phone, dropping into a squat so that no one could pull him away for a celebratory drink. He checked his text messages one at a time in case he’d accidentally scrolled past the one he was hoping to see, using the back of Onew’s legs as back support. There was a slight shuffle as Onew pushed against his spine, but Taemin refused to budge.

 

“How many times I gotta say sorry, huh?” Jonghyun’s inebriated voice tumbled down to Taemin’s ears. “I’ll pay the hospital bill-”

 

“-eh? What hospital bill?” Taemin popped to his feet to see the twin ashen faces of Onew and Jjong staring back at him. Onew took his hand away from Jjongs mouth and used it to grab Taemin by the wrist. Only the grim set to the older man’s jaw stunned Taemin into letting himself be dragged into a nearby powder room.

 

“What the hell is he talking about?” Taemin demanded as soon as he closed the door behind him. Onew closed his eyes briefly, setting his hands down heavily on Taemin’s shoulders. Taemin couldn’t tell if it was an attempt to calm him or keep him in one spot. Either way, it had an unpleasant coil of dread winding up in the pit of Taemin’s stomach.

 

“Earlier today at your ceremony, Teukie and Kangin saw…him…cheering for you.” Onew barely spoke above a whisper, but Taemin jumped as though he shouted right in his ear. “Kang and Jjong chased him down…”

 

Taemin stared, Onew stared back, every line of his body an apology. The din of the party vanished as the implications of what he just said clicked in Taemin’s brain. It was as if someone poured a bucket of molasses-thick panic on top of his head; he could feel the icy chill of it from the top of his head dripping over every inch of his body.

 

“No. Jinki no, he wouldn’t do that…why?!”

 

“The Major thought he might be dangerous. Ssh! C’mere, it’s gonna be ok, Jjong caught up to him first. They don’t know anything yet…” Onew’s natural warmth radiated out through his dress shirt; his chest smelled like amaretto and night air. It was an anchor point of safety as stabs of horror drew soundless sobs out of Taemin’s body.

 

“H-hosptial…w-w-why’d he have to…”

 

“Jjong…” Onew arms tightened around him, “He was trying to make it look like he followed orders…he said he didn’t hurt him too badly but…I haven’t heard anything yet so I don’t know. He’s probably very angry right now, which is why he hasn’t answered his phone, but we can keep try-”

 

“What do you mean by hurt...him?” Taemin interrupted.

 

The suffocating drip of panic slowly transformed into a hardened shell of fury as his head cocked to the side, kohl-rimmed eyes narrowed, lips pursed. Onew didn’t hold him when Taemin pushed away and crossed his arms, but the look in his eyes nearly kept Taemin rooted in the spot. The impulse to lash out at him irrationally almost took over, the urge to scream and demand how he could be so fucking calm in the middle of this disaster right on the edge of his tongue. But Taemin only had to observe the way Onew’s knees shook, the ragged state of his chewed off fingernails, the lingering redness of old tears, and it disappeared.

 

But someone was going to pay for this.

 

Taemin flung the door open, his eyes wild with liquor-fueled rage as he stalked through the party. Hands landed on his arms and shoulders, but he pulled right past them, heedless of the waves of whispers he left in his wake. He found the man he was looking for playing darts with a couple of other Auxiliaries. Shindong spotted Taemin first and tried to sling a friendly arm around his shoulder, but Taemin swiftly dodged it, drawing a raised eyebrow from Kibum.

 

Jjong turned around, caught Taemin’s expression, but didn’t have time to say a word before Taemin punched him square in the jaw.

 

Taemin watched just long enough to see the older man hit the floor before he turned on his heel and marched to the door. Party goers moved like a singular organism to the scene, rushing to get a good look at Jjong and get a snatch of gossip to go with it. The only thing Taemin cared about now was getting to Minho as fast as possible. He stormed out the front door and down the immaculate marble steps, motioning to one of the white-clad designated drivers waiting patiently outside.

 

“Get me over to Seodaemun,” Taemin gave the driver a hard look as he slid into the pearl-colored limo. “There’s a two million won tip in it if you break some speeding laws.”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The television did nothing but serve as noise and lights to chase away the silence. Minho let it play without really watching it. He was too busy deconstructing his current situation in his head and coming up with numbers that didn’t match. No matter which way he turned things around, broke them down into components, lined them up or grouped them together, there was no solution in sight.

 

Rather, there was a solution, but he didn’t like it.

 

In the end, everything boiled down to this: they’d gotten too comfortable. The last four months felt like a blended mix of a roller-coaster ride and finding a warm cabin in the middle of a snowstorm. The three of them swept the outside world under a rug when they were together. Onew might tell a funny story about something a celebrity did at a fancy dinner, but he left out what he and the celebrity did at the hotel after-party. Taemin did his fair share of bitching about his coursework, just like any other student. No one brought up the fact that his all-nighters often ended with him trying to go over his notes while Minho helped scrub glitter out of his hair.

 

Minho never got possessive or jealous; there was no point to it. Trying to hold on tightly to them would be like trying to trap running water in a clenched fist. Trying to keep them pinned to his side wasn’t his right and making the attempt would only eat him alive. There were no verbal declarations of love everlasting; instead, Minho tried to show his love in practical, tangible ways. He knew that ultimately, Onew and Taemin would always be able to rely on each other. They didn’t need him the same way he needed them.

 

He was a third wheel.

 

The painkillers were wearing off. Minho pawed blindly for the bottle, popping two pills into his hand and swallowing them dry. He was just getting the cap back on when he heard the knob on his front door turn. He froze, then scrambled to turn the tv off. His heart rate kicked into triple time as he frantically looked around for anything he could use as a weapon if needed.

 

How did they find his house so quickly? Were those earlier phone calls a warning? Minho ended up grabbing the coat rack, hoping the heavy wood would deter his attacker long enough for him to get away. To his shock, he heard a key enter the lock. The door swung open with a dramatic clang, and Taemin ran in, calling Minho’s name and flipping on the lights.

 

“I‘m right here.”

 

Taemin spun to face him, his face aghast as he took stock of Minho’s injuries. He stalled, taking his time to put the coat rack in exactly the right place, aligning the bottom to fit in the grooves it had worn in the carpet long ago. It gave him time to steel his words and harden his heart for what he was about to do, otherwise he wouldn’t have the strength to follow through.

 

“I just found out.” Taemin’s voice was strangled and hoarse; Minho found he couldn’t raise his eyes to look at him. “I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for hours, and then Onew said...fucking hell, why didn’t you call me back?!”

 

“Didn’t want to.”

 

It was a verbal slap to the face, and he knew it. He still kept his eyes on the ground as he made his way to the couch. That was going to set Taemin off for sure. Minho couldn’t help but flinch as he gingerly eased himself down on the cushions.

 

He was met with a strange silence, as though a mute button was pushed on the whole scene. Taemin had to say something. He was supposed to scream, he was supposed to snarl…he was supposed to make this easier.

 

“Why do you have a key?” Minho tried again from a different angle, making himself stare at the television. He knew Taemin hated being ignored, just like he knew how much he loved taking the bacon off of Onew’s plate at breakfast, claiming it always tasted better than his, even if it was cooked at the same time. Little things that Minho kept track of even when he wasn’t trying to.

 

“I had it made last month in case of an emergency or something.” Taemin’s voice quavered, as if he had trouble drawing breath. Minho gripped the arm of the chair. This was unfair of him, and he knew it, but what else could he do? Better to have Taemin yelling at him than in tears later on.

 

“You didn’t ask.”

 

“You wouldn’t have said no.”

 

“You. Didn’t. Ask. And you never do, Taemin. You just take what you want and expect everyone else to accommodate you. And if someone tries to say otherwise you just manipulate them until you get your way.”

 

Taemin walked in front of him, blocking the screen, his hands clenched into fists. His whole body was shaking, but Minho refused to look any higher than mid-torso. He braced himself, but Taemin didn’t lash out or come at him swinging.

 

“Are you saying I tricked you into being with us?” Minho looked away; he wasn’t made for this kind of ugliness, he was never the one trying to leave, just the one always left behind.

 

“Why don’t you look at me?”

 

“I can’t.” Minho took a deep breath, willing his body to keep his emotions at bay.

 

“Minho…”

 

“We can just end it here. No more harm done.” Minho could feel the painkillers start to kick in, but there was still a crushing tightness in his chest. “You’ll still have Jinki, so you won’t be alone, and you’ll be safe.”

 

“I don’t care about safe-”

 

“-in a couple months it’ll be like I wasn’t there at all. You’ll be so busy with work and friends and parties you won’t have time to miss me.”

 

“…Oh. Of course. Because you’re obviously just a way to pass the time.” Taemin slumped to his knees, forcing eye contact. Minho had never seen him look so grave before, so old, as though the very concept of happiness was stripped from his being. It made Minho want to bawl and he barely kept his own tears in check.

 

“What does it matter that I saw you as more than a lover, that you were like my family? So what if Jinki wasn’t really living until you came along? Who cares if I thought one smile from you was worth more than anything someone could buy for me?” Taemin spat the words out, forcing Minho to see his pain no matter how hard he tried to blind himself.

 

“I guess because we sell the idea of love, it means we aren’t capable of feeling it for ourselves, right?”

 

“WHAT ELSE AM I SUPPOSED TO DO?!”

 

The scream shocked both of them. Minho never raised his voice, not like this; he’d finally reached a breaking point.

 

“I can’t do anything else but this. I love you and I can’t keep you safe. Do you understand how awful that feels?! If something happened to you or Jinki like what happened to me today, or something worse, how am I supposed to live?!”

 

“If you love us then don’t shut us out!” Taemin slammed his hand on the coffee table, knocking the bottle of pills over with the force. “Don’t act like you have to fix everything by yourself! Just because you didn’t come up with the answer doesn’t make it hopeless.” Taemin’s voice fell in the opposite direction, until he was almost whimpering as he stood up almost nose-to-nose with Minho.

 

“He’s right.” Minho turned to see Onew standing in the doorway with his phone in his hand. He looked like warmed over hell; it showed in every move he made as he closed the door that Taemin left open. “We can get through this if we work together, but only if this is something you want to fight for. But right now, you should be resting.”

 

Everything he said was so calm, so reassuring, that Minho just didn’t have the will to fight it. He allowed the two of them to get him to his feet and walk him to his bedroom, the only sound the occasional sniffle from Taemin. Onew turned down the bed, Taemin battered his pillows into fluffiness and got Minho arranged comfortably.

 

Minho was reminded of the flu Onew caught back in February, complete with a racking cough and high fever. He and Taemin took it upon themselves to do everything for their sick patient; bringing him juice and changing sweaty sheets, dispelling his foul mood by looking up the corniest jokes they could find on the Internet.

 

Taemin even made a valiant attempt at making rice porridge, but he ended up adding so many weird things to it that Minho declared it unfit for human consumption. Both of them stayed by Onew’s side through the worst of it, knowing they would end up getting sick and not caring a bit.

 

“Sleep well, hyung.” Taemin broke him out of his reverie, brushing a strand of hair out of his face.

 

“We’ll wait for your call.” Onew gave him a strained half-smile and motioned for Taemin to leave the room with him.

 

For the first time in Minho’s life, he found the courage to plead for the thing he wanted most. He sat up a little too quickly, his head spinning as he reached out with both hands to grab Onew’s wrist and Taemin’s arm.

 

“Please. Don’t leave me.”

 

He hardly got the words out before Taemin was wrapped around him; Onew was there a heartbeat later mouthing apologetic kisses on every wound he could reach. By the time the sun rose, Minho was finally at peace: Onew on his right, curled up against him in an odd little ball and completely buried under the blankets, while Taemin was on his left, his arm and leg sprawled across Minho’s body like a child with a large stuffed animal.

 

It felt like he’d finally made it home.

 

 


	12. Choi Minho, SuperSpy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At last, a bit of fluff to break up the angst. Sheesh.

In the end, they agreed to lay low for three months. Minho needed time to recover from his injuries, Taemin was sure to be under close observation after the twin debacles of the graduation and the party fight, and Onew wanted to ensure that any possible rumors were put to rest before they reached beyond even the powerful ears of the Majors.

 

Seeing each other in person was out of the question, and texts and phone calls had to be kept to a bare minimum. There was a brief debate about emails, but Minho was paranoid enough about people monitoring their computer use that they choose to be extra cautious and decided against it.

 

So on the fateful morning after the worst day of Minho’s life, Onew counted the number of days on Minho’s calendar, Taemin circled the last day and drew three interconnected hearts in the middle with a red marker and Minho kissed them both goodbye like he was going off to war. Which was true, in its own way, because watching the two of them walk out that door felt like hell.

 

For Minho, the first week of recovery was a muddle of doctor’s appointments, sitting on the couch watching television, and dealing with a near consistent stream of well meaning phone calls.

 

Donghae dropped by the fourth day he called out of work, bringing takeout, a tiny get-well goldfish in a bowl and a thousand questions about “the drunken hoodlums that beat him up in the alley”. Minho was genuinely touched; he honestly hadn’t expected anyone from the office to react to his unexpected sick leave with anything more than an irritated grumble about having to pick up the slack.

 

“This just goes to show the state of the world today,” Donghae proclaimed as he dumped a pile of lo mein on Minho’s plate. “Where is the love, man? If everyone cared about each other for just one day, that’d be the day that nobody died.”

 

“Um. Those are song lyrics.”

 

“How many dumplings do you want? I’ll even take the pale ones if you want. I don’t get it, if they make them all at the same time, how come they never end up the same color?” Donghae rummaged through Minho’s cabinets, blithely ignoring Minho’s attempt to sabotage his version of reality.

 

“Three. Three will be just fine.” Minho just shook his head and let the older man poke around in his kitchen. Surprisingly, having him over to his apartment didn’t make him feel the awkwardness of having to entertain a guest, but more like having an old friend over. It was a relief after days of only having the television and specters of Taemin and Onew for company.

 

“Did you make it to your boyfriend’s graduation on time?” Donghae plopped two steaming plates of food down on the table, giving Minho an open hearted smile as he went back into the kitchen to get glasses of water. Minho stared at him in utter shock that slowly bled into the beginnings of a panic attack.

 

“What…but how did you know that?”

 

“I didn’t.” For a split second Donghae’s smile quirked down at the edges before warming up again. “Here, try some of this, it’s good. I’m really sorry for holding you up. I know that was really important, and it wasn’t your fault I goofed.”

 

“I understand, it’s ok. Listen, this isn’t really something I talk about in the office-”

 

“Not a word out of me, I promise.” Donghae winked at him and dug into his food. “Hey, it’s ok that I came by, right? I don’t want to be the third leg in a misunderstood love triangle or anything, and he might be upset that you’re having an intimate dinner with a handsome and charismatic coworker.” Donghae struck a cheesy pose, and Minho genuinely laughed for the first time in days.

 

“I think you watch too many dramas.” Minho ate a spoonful of soup before getting the courage to continue. “It’s fine. I promise. He would get in a lot of trouble if anyone found out we were dating, so we’re breaking off contact for a while.” He could feel the weight of melancholy bearing down on his shoulders.

 

“Ouch! That’s not fair! You can’t see him at all? But if you like each other…oh. OOOH. Is that why you’re…” Donghae clapped a hand over his mouth and pointed at Minho’s injuries with his chopsticks. “Was it his family? Is that why you won’t go to the police?” Minho nodded once and went back to poking at his food. Several minutes went by where they ate in awkward silence before Donghae slammed his hand down on the table and stood up, causing Minho to nearly choke on a piece of shrimp.

 

“That does it. Minho-yah, you pay attention! Hyung is going to give you some valuable advice.” Minho opened his mouth to question the sudden use of informal speech, but Donghae railroaded over him before he could get a word out.

 

“There comes a time when a man has to learn how to stretch the boundaries of honesty. Now if I know you, you were going to do something completely dull like completely respect his family's wishes, am I right?”

 

“How does that fall under the category of dull?”

 

“Yep. Just like I thought. Boooorrriiiing! But you’re a new man, starting today! You can’t see him in person? Can you call him, maybe late at night from a payphone? What about secret emails from an internet café?” Donghae’s eyes gleamed as he paced back and forth with his hands behind his back. Minho shook his head.

 

“I thought about that already. It’s too much of a risk and I don’t want to get him in trouble because of me. That would be terrible.” Donghae stopped mid-step, looking down at Minho with a startled, then a sympathetic expression.

 

“You really care about him lots, don’t you? I can hear it.”

 

“Yeah. I do.”

 

“Keep fighting. You’re a really smart guy. If you put your mind to it, I’m sure you’ll think of something to win him back. Love really can move mountains, if you believe.” Donghae’s voice gentled as he put his hands in his pockets. He picked up both plates and scraped them clean into the trash. The words and the gesture eased Minho’s fears enough that he didn’t point out Donghae’s blatant use of song lyrics again.

 

“Uh oh. You might have to replace the lightbulb in here soon. Did you know that there’s a fish, the angler fish, that catches prey by swimming in deep dark water with a little light dangling in front of its head? It waits for little fish to play with the light, then snap! It gobbles them up.” Minho was slightly taken aback by the abrupt change in topic.

 

“No, I didn’t know that. Sounds scary.”

 

“It is.” Donghae put the dishes in the sink and turned on the hot water to rinse them. ”But it goes to show that things aren’t always the way they present themselves. Can’t judge a porno by the cover and all that.”

 

Minho ended up coughing all over again as water went into his lungs; he came to the decision that eating meals with his co-worker might be slightly hazardous to his health. But Donghae’s random chatter about fish did help him finalize an idea he’d toyed with since the spreadsheet disaster.

 

“Noh wants me to start bringing him the backup data directly from now on. Did he tell you that?”

 

Donghae froze with his hand on the tap to the sink. He seemed abnormally tense, but Minho couldn’t see his face. This had to be a giant blow to his pride, to be seen as someone untrustworthy. Minho wondered how many people in the office chalked this up as yet another example of his airheaded nature and used it to fuel vicious office gossip.

 

“Sorry, no. I didn’t get the memo.”

 

“Something tells me he was just going to wait until the end of the week. Would you believe he suggested I name the files after sweets?” Minho watched sadly as Donghae let out a weak snort of a laugh. “I might have to bring him the flash drives but I’m still going to keep a copy in my second desk drawer on a blue drive.” Donghae turned, understanding lighting up his face in a way that made Minho shrug and smile in return. “It’ll probably have fish files on it.”

 

“It’s a routine by now, after all, right?” Donghae nodded with a grin, and Minho suddenly had a flash of inspiration of his own.

 

“Exactly. I’m a creature of habit.” And luckily, so were the men he loved.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

“C’mon, it’s been two weeks already and he hasn’t said a word.” Jonghyun trailed after Onew with dogged persistence, one step short of breaking down into a complete whine. “Can’t you just make him talk to me?”

 

“He will when he’s ready. If I push him, he’ll simply dig his heels in further.” Onew unlocked his mailbox and pulled out a stack of letters. It contained the usual assortment of bills, a plain envelope with a plastic window that simply screamed credit card offer, and a mauve letter on thick, expensive paper with flowing gold script. He closed the door to find Jonghyun turning his puppy eyes on him full force.

 

“Jinkiii. Don’t be like that. I’m just asking you to grease the wheels a little. I keep trying to apologize but Taemin’s being super stubborn.” His expression toned down from the ridiculous to the genuinely distressed. “I miss hanging out with you guys, and I can’t stand when Taeminnie’s mad at me.”

 

Onew shook his head and sighed as he unlocked his door and let them both inside. It was true that Taemin never held a grudge this long before, and any fights he had with Jonghyun usually resolved themselves after a few days and a large meal. But Onew couldn’t blame him for being particularly angry. Even he didn’t want to see his best friend’s face for almost a week after the incident.

 

“I won’t make any promises, but I’ll talk to him at least.” Onew settled down at his desk and pulled out his ivory-handled letter opener. The mauve envelope was first; it turned out to be an invitation from the Minister of Finance to a weekend excursion to the mountains. Onew made a mental note to decline; the pollen would be far too thick this time of year for him to feel comfortable. He then opened each and every bill, one by one.

 

“I really don’t know why you do that. You know I take care of it every month.” Jonghyun flopped down on the couch and turned on the television. Onew carefully refolded his insurance bill and slipped it back inside the envelope.

 

“I know. All the same, I like looking over my mail. Even the boring stuff. You never know-”

 

“-when it might be something important. Yeah yeah.” Jonghyun rolled his eyes, finishing his thought for him.

 

“You used to just throw everything to the side without looking at it first. Somebody had to make sure you didn’t toss out an important notice.” Onew chastised.

 

“Says the man who used to get excited over junk mail. And still does, apparently.” Jonghyun gestured to the last letter in Onew’s hand. “Are you that touched that they are offering you a once in a lifetime credit card offer?”

 

Onew had a slight flush on his face as he glared at Jonghyun. He quickly stuffed the letter back in the envelope and put the whole pile inside his desk drawer. “Quiet you. After all the times I let you put those quote unquote ‘discreet packages’ in my name so the landlady wouldn’t think you were a pervert, I don’t think you have any room to judge.”

 

“WE AGREED NOT TO BRING THAT UP ANYMORE, JACKASS.”

 

“THEN STOP SPREADING THAT DAMN CABBAGE STORY.”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The scent of freshly roasted grounds pulled Taemin through the door, instantly soothing to his troubled mind like an expensive potent incense. He didn’t bother stifling his gigantic yawn, it had been a long night, and to make matters worse, the client decided to buy another three hours of his time past the contracted schedule. He was tired, grumpy, and starting to get a caffeine withdrawal headache.

 

All the same, he gave the girl behind the counter his best aegyo smile. If he had learned anything from Jinki, it was to always be nice to service workers.

 

“Morning, Maeri. You look extra cute today, what’s the occasion?” Taemin heard So Ra, the other coffee girl, giggling in the background, but that was nothing new. Maeri grinned at him, whipping up his usual banana mocha latte without having to be told. There was a gleam in her eye that Taemin found a little worrisome, but it was probably just his imagination.

 

“Oh, nothing! It’s just a lovely spring day, don’t you think? Absolutely perfect for falling in love.” She winked at him, and he blinked at her in return. As he paid for his drink, she slipped a sleeve on the outside, but didn’t hand it over right away. “Have a nice day…and be extra careful with this.”

 

“Sure.” Taemin’s smile held a hint of nervousness now, but he took his coffee and settled into a corner to drink it in peace. From the corner of his eye he could see the two girls doing a terrible job of trying not to get caught staring at him. Maybe he’d forgotten to take off his makeup from earlier. It didn’t matter, he was too tired to care much.

 

The first sip was like a balm to his weary soul, and he could feel some of his bad mood lifting with every mouthful. When he was halfway done, he took the sleeve off the cup and slipped a nail along the seam, turning it from a circle into a long, curled slip. Minho was forever teasing him for folding them into strange little shapes, but he thought it was a fun way to pass the time while he finished his coffee.

 

So it came as a shock to see Minho’s handwriting littering the entire inside of the cardboard.

 

~I fell in love with you the moment you reached up to me that day at the airport. In that moment, when your fingers closed around my wrist, you saved me from my self-imposed prison. You are my strength. Thank you for never taking defeat as an option. I miss you.~

 

Taemin stared at the cleverly hidden note for a very long time, until the sound of the espresso machine broke through his reverie. He jumped up and went to the side of the counter, tapping his foot impatiently until Maeri finished with a customer.

 

“Who gave that to you?”

 

“Shh! Not allowed to say…yah! Did you leave it on the table? Are you crazy?! He’s working hard to keep this secret, don’t just leave it lying around, stupid!” She pointed to his seat with a smile and gave him a small push towards it. “Just make sure you come by in a few days.”

 

Taemin nodded, seemingly dazed, as he went back to his table, calmly finished his coffee, and got up to leave. He folded the sleeve into something indistinguishable, threw the cup in the trash, and slipped the sleeve into his pocket as he walked out the door. It took every ounce of training he had to keep from breaking into a run for the subway with an incredibly dorky grin plastered all over his face.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Taemin walked in the door to find Onew curled up on the couch, Stevie Wonder playing on the stereo and the shutters closed against the setting sun. His hair was mussed and shower damp, and all he wore was a pair of boxer-briefs and a washed-out aquamarine t-shirt. He clutched an envelope in his hand, his eyes closed and his knees tucked up to his chin. Taemin toed off his shoes quietly, settling down next to him and laying his head on his shoulder.

 

“This is his shirt, isn’t it?”

 

“Mmm hmm.”

 

“…and what’s that?”

 

Onew passed the letter over. Taemin frowned at it in confusion. There was no return address, the envelope was bulk quality and through the little plastic window on the cover, he could see that they misspelled his first name. But when he pulled the letter out, Minho’s handwriting surprised him once again.

 

~When I woke up I had a blanket and pillow I didn’t have before, and a flight attendant was asking me how many sugars I wanted in my Americano. When I told her I hadn’t ordered one, she said that another gentleman placed the order. She was sorry for forgetting the sugar detail. At that moment I felt like some angel was watching over me and I prayed against all odds that it was you, even as I felt myself falling in love with an impossible hope. You are my inspiration, and one day I want to protect you the same way you are always sheltering me. I miss you.~

 

Taemin felt his heart clench in his chest. He couldn’t bear to look at Onew for a moment as he blindly reached into his pocket and took out the coffee sleeve. He pressed it into Onew’s chest as he reread the letter. He heard Onew’s breath hitch; he put the letter back in the envelope and put it on the table.

 

Taemin wasn’t sure what he was feeling, if it was jealously, longing, or a torrid combination of the two. Regardless, it all popped like a balloon when Onew suddenly wrapped him up in his arms.

 

“He’s right. You saved all of us. Thank you.” Onew’s voice was strained and husky in his ear, Taemin could hear the tears he fought to hold back. He only had to turn his head slightly to catch the bergamot and coriander scent of Minho’s favorite soap mixing with the natural smell of Onew’s skin.

 

“Jinki, do you love me?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“You miss him?”

 

“Don’t you?”

 

“Every day.” Taemin squirmed, rotating his body to catch Onew’s mouth in a slow, open mouthed kiss. Onew pushed back, unhurried, pressing his hands up Taemin’s back.

 

“No…Jinki just let me…ok?” Taemin gripped the hem of Minho’s shirt and flipped the front over Onew’s head, trapping his arms behind his back. Onew looked at him in surprise, a flash of confusion hung between them before the older man caught on. Taemin choked up when Onew lay back on the couch, and for the first time since they met, he surrendered.

 

Never in the history of their relationship had Taemin ever felt like he was making love to Jinki, open, honest, and raw, without the ingrained muscle memory of years of training. Taemin felt like this was their first time; it was a heady sensation to have permission to take as much control as he liked, to discover parts of his lover with fingers, teeth and tongue as if he were filling in blank portions of a precious map.

 

Even after they stripped themselves of any other clothing, sweat making their bodies slide as Taemin nearly tormented them both with long, measured thrusts, Onew kept the shirt wrapped around his wrists. He used it to trap Taemin and pull him closer, wrapping his firm thighs around the younger man’s slender waist. Taemin could feel the soft burn of the cotton weave on his back like a brand.

 

“We’ll look out for you from now on. We’ll protect you.” Taemin whispered as he raked strands of hair out of Onew’s face, uncovering his eyes. He knew he was rambling, but he must have been saying something right from the moaned sob that spilled out of Onew’s mouth.

 

“Jinki, do you love me?”

 

“God yes, I do, so much.”

 

“I love you too. I don’t really say it, but you knew, right?”

 

“I know, baby. I know.”

 

They got so caught up in the moment that when they came, neither noticed that they both called out the same name.

 

 


	13. A Most Unexpected Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies again for the delay, had more health complications come up and it slowed me down. I am also crossposting this to AFF: http://www.asianfanfics.com/story/view/812486/%5Clogin

Onew didn’t realize he’d dozed off in the middle of watching the news until he heard a knock on the door. A glance at the clock revealed that it was 12:03am, so the culprit was most likely Jonghyun; Taemin was out for the evening with his friends. With a roll of the neck to loosen the stiffness there, Onew slipped his feet into his house shoes and padded over to the door. Outside the window, a torrential rain streaked across the windowpane; Onew made a note to make sure the bedroom window was shut.

 

“I’m going to call it an early night so don’t get-GAH!” Onew jumped back in surprise when he saw a soaking wet Minho standing in the doorway. The taller man wore a simple pair of faded darkwash jeans, what was once a smoky evergreen t-shirt turned near black with rain, and a leather belt he’d never seen before. Even with Minho’s bangs dripping down in front of his eyes, Onew could sense the electric intensity in his gaze. Minho barely gave him a second to compose himself before he walked in, pulling Onew in for a blistering kiss as he shut the door with his foot.

 

“Mmph…but…tomorrow’s the last day.” Onew still threaded his fingers into Minho’s curls despite his protests. The sensation of the unfamiliar stubble on Minho’s face was a very pleasant distraction combined with the chill of raindrops and the warmth of his skin.

 

“It’s after midnight. Need you.” A low roll of thunder accentuated Minho’s shortened sentences. Minho didn’t even let them get away from the door, kicking off his boots without regard for Onew’s carefully maintained champagne-colored carpets. He buried his face against Onew’s neck, taking long breaths along the lengths of muscle there and latching his mouth to his Adam’s apple. Onew nearly growled, dragging his fingers down Minho’s wet back and yanking the wet shirt halfway up.

 

“Where’s Taemin?”

 

“Out. Sss! Harder, there-“

 

“Mmm. Working?”

 

“No.”

 

“Call him.” Minho demanded as he finished leaving a hickey on the base of Onew’s neck before allowing him out of his grasp. Onew ran for his cell phone so fast that he ended up banging his knee on the corner of the coffee table and hissed in pain as the phone fell out of his shaking fingers, and he dropped to the floor to retrieve it. A blazing flash of lightning illuminated the room, highlighting Minho’s chest and arms as he flung his shirt haphazardly across the room.

 

Since that first night at Camden Road, Onew had never seen him like this...like a man starved. But this was different, the actions of a man who was confident that he had every right to what he wanted. It was strange but somehow thrilling; Onew actually blanked for a moment on which button had Taemin’s cell on speed dial as he watched Minho drop down on all fours and slowly crawl his way across the room towards him.

 

“That’s my shirt you have on.”

 

“Yeah. Looks better on you.” Onew moaned in bliss when Minho wrapped his arms around his torso, pulling them both up on their knees, pressing the rough feel of his wet denim-clad hips against the worn flannel of his pajama pants. Surprisingly, the normally fastidious man hadn’t bothered putting on underwear before running over. Minho chuckled, squeezing Onew a little tighter so he could groan quietly into his ear.

 

“Looks best on the floor.”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Key and Taemin were having an absolute blast being massive teases on the dance floor. They twisted and writhed in a way that left people guessing: were they straight? Gay? Were they with each other, or just dancing close? They had the eye of most of the people in the room, which was exactly how it should be. It had Taemin in a good enough mood that when his cell phone vibrated, he didn’t mind leaving the packed dance floor to go check it.

 

Onew’s number flashed at him, drawing a small moment of concern. He tended not to call when Taemin was having fun unless it was something of importance. A hundred scenarios flashed through his mind as he called Onew back, and not one of them was very promising. His palms began to sweat as the phone rang, once, twice, three times, and just before the recording could kick in, there was a click and the sound of labored breathing.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Taemin?”

 

“Yeah, you called me, is everything-”

 

“Come home.” Onew sounded wrecked, his voice the velveteen octave that slipped out when he was getting lost in the throes of passion. Taemin caught a second voice, a treasured and familiar baritone, mumbling softly in the background. “Hurry.”

 

The call disconnected and Taemin only stared at for half a second before he was shoving his way back to the middle of the dance floor and grabbing Key by the arm.

 

“I gotta go!” Taemin spared a moment to give him a one armed hug before turning to leave. He made it all the way to the bar before Key caught up with him, kitten eyes narrowed to slits, a thoroughly displeased air radiating from every pore.

 

“We barely got here an hour ago and you’re ditching me?” Key huffed and flicked an errant strand of hair out of his face. “What, did something more important come up? Why are you smiling like that? It looks creepy, stop it.”

 

“I’ll make it up to you, promise. Tell Minzy I said bye!” Taemin blew him a kiss and breezed out the door, only to come running right back in.

 

“Key. Handsome, elegant, supreme fashion god of the universe-“

 

“Fuck you, Taemin. I’m not lending you cab fare.”

 

“But Keeeey. It’s raining.”

 

“...you’re lucky you’re cute.”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*

If Onew kissed with all the majesty of an aria, then Taemin was the first touch of summer sunlight after a downpour: sultry and glorious. The moment their lips touched, Minho felt like a plant in bloom after a devastating drought, unfolding towards the light with all the strength he could muster. And with Onew behind him, tracing love poems along his ribs with the pads of his fingers, Minho decided that death itself could hold no sway over him if this was his reward in the afterlife.

 

It was so terribly hard to follow Taemin’s order to take things slowly, especially when he all but pounced on Onew the second he opened the door and nearly did the same when Taemin finally came home. But the younger man was adamant, determined to inflict the sweetest torture by keeping Minho trapped between them and taking his time to kiss him witless.

 

“Let me take the jeans off at least.” Minho sounded like he was whimpering and he didn’t care a bit. Taemin dragged his tongue across his bottom lip, his dark eyes flicking down to Minho’s waist and back again.

 

“Nope. Not yet.”

 

“Jinki, he’s killing me.” Minho leaned his head back against the other man’s shoulder and gyrated his hips, hoping for an ally. To his dismay, all he got for his troubles was a kiss to the temple.

 

“I think this is revenge, sweetheart.”

 

“We kept all the letters you sent. You had us pining away for three months and think we’re going to be merciful now?” Taemin smiled, but Minho shivered with the knowledge that he was only half joking.

 

“The poor boy can’t drink his favorite coffee without getting a raging hard-on anymore.” Onew chuckled; the vibration sent tingles across every inch of Minho’s back making him shiver in anticipation. Taemin made an indignant noise and playfully swiped at Onew, his thigh pressing against Minho in a way that dragged a loud gasp from his kiss-swollen lips.

 

“Wanted...wanted to show you how much I love you…”

 

“Hey, shh. We know.” Hands were everywhere, and Minho was so desperate that he couldn’t tell who they belonged to. “But we never got a chance to reply to any of them.” Taemin finished his declaration with a look to Onew that turned Minho’s insides into lava.

 

The three of them maneuvered to the bedroom, relying on memory mostly to keep from crashing into anything along the way. Taemin slipped off Minho’s belt with one hand; Minho didn’t fail to note how he sneakily threw the accessory into his clothes hamper. When Onew finally unzipped him, helping him pull the damp pants away from his skin, Minho almost cried with relief.

 

“…fuck.” The word slipped out of Onew’s mouth purely by accident, his eyes practically glued to the globes of Minho’s ass. Minho allowed himself a small smirk of victory even as he trembled under the burn of that gaze. Taemin abandoned his post of leaving small bite marks on Minho’s chest to see what the fuss was about.

 

“You’ve been wearing that the whole time? Damn, no wonder you’re like this.” Taemin pressed the butt plug just a tad, grinning when Minho nearly folded in half. “That should make things easier!”

 

Before Minho could gather his wits enough to ask what he meant by that, Onew distracted him with another spine melting kiss. Minho breathed into it, clinging to Onew’s shoulders to keep himself grounded. Soon Taemin was pulling him away and settling him onto the bed, his cock lubed with a tantalizingly familiar scent that tugged on Minho’s memory. Clove and sandalwood, Taemin’s signature scent and enough to have Minho whining with memories of their first night.

 

“I can’t believe you bought this.” Taemin rubbed a thumb over the jeweled apple design on the base, then turned it to the left just to make Minho hiss. The plug came out slowly, revealing it to be made of the same polished, high quality oak as the banisters at Camden Road. This had to be a custom job, there was no way that Minho would be able to find an exact match just anywhere.

 

Taemin replaced the five inch plug with his cock at a glacier slow pace.  Minho tried to push down, nearly mad with the desire to be filled, but Taemin kept a tight grip on his hips and refused to be rushed. Once he was seated all the way, kissing Minho languidly in an effort to keep him calm, he still didn’t move. Minho was a hair’s breadth away from screaming when he felt the bed dip behind him. A slicked finger breached the ring of muscle at his entrance, making his eyes fly open wide.

 

“You said you wanted to try this some rainy day.” Even now, Onew had the faculties to make terrible jokes. Minho’s eyes squeezed shut as the very idea racked his body in a shameless, greedy wave of lust. But it quickly occurred to him that neither Taemin or Onew were anything close to small.

 

“There’s no way…you won’t fit…” Minho’s eyes widened at the thought. Taemin put his hands on Minho’s face, his eyes beaming confidence and love.

 

> “Love’s only weakness
> 
> Is also its greatest strength:
> 
> It defies reason.”

 

Minho stared at him in wonder. Taemin grinned cutely and pressed a kiss to the tip of Minho’s nose.

 

“See? You two aren’t the only ones who can do the poetry thing-OH MY-!” His moment of smugness was cut off by the first press of Onew’s cock alongside his. Minho couldn’t even draw breath to make a sound, his whole body was quivering and his eyes rolled into the back of his head.

 

The next few minutes were a chorus of groans and stuttered curses peppered with endearments. Minho felt like he was aware of each and every cell in his body, like rational thought was an imaginary concept and that he only existed as the fulcrum between the psyches of Onew and Taemin.

 

By the time Onew finally, impossibly sheathed himself inside of Minho, none of them dared move for fear of falling over the pinprick balance into lust-fueled madness. They even breathed as one entity for a few moments, caught in the middle of a moment when even their souls seemed fused into a singular energy.

 

But a particularly loud crash of thunder startled Minho, causing a shift that had him bellowing with the most intense orgasm of his life and pulling the loves of his life into the beautiful abyss with him.

 

 


	14. Little Boy Blue

Donghae woke up with a dry mouth and a slight ache in his lower back. He shut his eyes, centering himself, then slowly opened them until he could adjust to the ambient streetlight illuminating the hotel room. The body on the bed next to him remained still, seemingly in repose, but Donghae knew by now that it was an illusion.

 

A glance at the clock revealed that twenty minutes remained before the agreed upon alarm went off. He wriggled closer, trying to snuggle up to the broad back in front of him. Just as he predicted, his bed partner shifted away, turning over to give him an exasperated sigh.

 

“Good morning! At the very least, it’s morning somewhere.” Donghae smiled into a languorous stretch, flinching reflexively when his spine popped. “Still have some time left…we could go again, make it a game even, and still have time to shower.”

 

“If you have time to think about fucking, you have time to be useful.” Minwoo sat up and combed sweat-soaked hair out of his eyes. “I’m taking a shower. Make me some coffee, would you?”

 

“We’re not at the office. Do I look like Jessica to you?” Despite his grumbling, Donghae slipped out of bed and set about twiddling with the one-cup coffee machine. He nearly dropped the mug when Minwoo slapped his ass on the way to the bathroom, but his threat of a sexual harassment lawsuit was met with the sound of the shower running. As the coffee brewed, he checked his cell phone for any missed calls or messages. There was only one, a text message in English that made his stomach lurch.

 

#One fish. Two fish. Red fish. Blue fish.#

 

He swallowed slowly, sent a reply, and called on all his training to put himself back under control. By the time Minwoo got out of the shower, Donghae was waiting with a steaming hot cup of coffee and an equally heated smile. The message was deleted, and the phone switched to silent mode.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

“Our boyfriend is turning into a middle-aged housewife. You should run.”

 

Taemin made this announcement with all the solemn gravity of a newscaster announcing the end of the world. Minho slid his glasses up his nose and glanced at the time on his laptop. It was nearly eight pm on a Tuesday, which meant that Onew would soon be settling in to watch his favorite tv shows.

 

The three of them used to watch action packed shows together, but lately the oldest of the three garnered a taste toward rom-coms. Since Minho and Taemin both lost a drinking game to see who got control of the big television on that night, Onew was free to watch the sentimental sitcoms as much as he liked.

 

“What else is new?” Minho joked.  “The Playstation is still set up in here if you want to play.”

 

“You don’t get it. Wookie and Kyuhyun practically invited themselves over to watch that stupid show, so now he’s trying to clean and gather snacks. I’m supposed to take you out somewhere until they go away. Or we could just stay locked in here and have obnoxiously loud sex.” Taemin wiggled his eyebrows.  Minho suppressed the urge to laugh; that would only encourage him.

 

“Tempting, but we lost fair and square. C’mon, we can go see a movie, my treat. And if you leave without a fuss, I’ll buy tickets to something boring so we can make out in the back of the theater.”

“Throw in some soda and popcorn and you have a deal.” Taemin cackled in triumph as he bounced into the bathroom; Minho sighed and tried to finish the last row of figures in double time.

 

The end of the quarter was fast approaching, and since he didn’t relish spending a weekend locked in the office with panicking co-workers, he was determined to be ahead of the game. Only the numbers wouldn’t cooperate with him, giving him answers that he knew deep in his gut couldn’t be right, no matter what the spreadsheet spat out at him.

 

“Have I told you lately how wonderful you are?” Minho didn’t have to look up to know that Onew was lingering in the doorway, probably giving him a sappy, adoring smile designed to butter him up. He lifted his eyes all the same, knowing that the battle was lost before it begun. Sure enough, the other love of his life was practically radiating cheesy little hearts in his direction. Minho couldn’t help but smile back.

 

“Don’t worry; we’ll be out of your hair as soon as Taemin finishes fussing with his hair. I think Key is becoming a really bad influence, it never used to take him long to get ready for anything that wasn’t work related.” Minho saved his work and switched off the laptop, rolling his neck to get rid of the stiffness. Onew was by his side in an instant, kneading the knot out of his shoulder with practiced ease.

 

“Thanks, but that wasn’t the question. You see, we’re out of shrimp chips again, and I don’t have time to run to the market and get more.”

 

“If you wouldn’t let Jonghyun eat them all when he comes by, there would be some for the rest of us.”

 

“But you always keep a secret stash…”

 

“So I can pack them with my lunch!”

 

“Please?” Onew set to work on a different knot of muscle, sliding Minho into a languid stupor. “I promise to replace them tomorrow. Kyuhyun really likes them, and I’d be grateful.” Onew snuck a teasing kiss to the soft spot right below Minho’s left ear. “Very, very grateful.”

 

“In the closet, inside the box for the rice cooker. Don’t look so smug. By the way, just who is this Kyuhyun, anyway?”

 

“He does IT stuff for Leetuek, so he’s sort of the go to computer guy. Wow! This is a good hiding spot…you have candy in here?! And crackers…yah, are you opening a convenience store?” Onew emerged frowning from the closet with a large unopened bag of chips and a box of chocolates. “How long have you been hiding things in there?”

 

“I was just protecting my investments! Nothing ever lasts in here otherwise.”

 

“You could’ve told me at least. I saw that can of cashews; you know how much I love cashews.”

 

“…that’s kind of the point.”

 

Before Onew could draw breath to admonish him for hiding junk food away like a demented squirrel, Taemin emerged from the bathroom. With a speed that would put an Olympian to shame, Taemin grabbed the bag of chips and sprinted towards the living room, trying to hide it under his shirt along the way. Onew and Minho spared one glance at each other, then they took off after him, indulging in his quick game of keep away until the doorbell rang.

 

All three of them froze. Minho briefly considered running back to the bedroom and hiding in there until Onew’s company went home, but with all the noise they just made there was no way to pretend he wasn’t there. Onew was the first to collect himself, adjusting his clothing and smoothly opening the door with a welcoming smile.

 

“Hi! You’re early; I was still getting drinks ready. Come in!” Taemin used the opportunity to dash back into the kitchen with the chips, hurriedly opening them into a bowl. Minho stood in the middle of the living room, awkward and defenseless, but trying his best not to appear that way.

 

Two men trailed in after Onew: one Minho recognized from photos as Ryeowook, an expressive bundle of youthful timidity and simmering sensuality carrying a small box of clemintines. The other managed to have all the delicate stained-glass handsomeness of an altar boy but for the hyper-intelligent gleam in his eyes and the knife edge to his smirk. He looked like the kind of man who always knew something no one else did and reveled in it. That didn’t abate Minho’s nervousness one bit.

 

“This is Minho,” Onew gestured with an easy smile on his face, as if he had everything under control. “We were both part of the same Western Literature Appreciation group. Minho, this is Ryeowook and Kyuhyun. They’re co-workers of mine. Here, let me take that for you, I’ll bring the other snacks in.” Ryeowook nodded with what Minho would’ve called shyness if he didn’t already know what the man did for a living. Kyuhyun had no such compunctions: he shook Minho’s hand firmly, meeting his gaze unwaveringly.

 

“Nice to meet you. Were you here to watch the finale as well?” Kyuhyun quirked his head to the side, and Minho strained to keep his gaze from sliding over to Onew for help. This was a test, it had to be, but if he could stay calm, there would still be a way to get out of this unscathed. At least he hoped and prayed there would be.

 

Running from the apartment now would be rather hard to explain, but pretending to have an interest in the show was perfectly viable. Minho desperately scrambled to clutch at all the half listened to rants Onew went on about the show, trying to piece together enough to pass for a fan.

 

“I’m sorry, I thought the finale was next week…isn’t tonight the second to last? We’re supposed to find out if the wedding is still going to happen or not, at least that’s what the preview said…”

 

“Oh, he’s right. Remember Kyu? Mi Ho still doesn’t know that The Doctor is just using her for her powers…” Minho nearly cried with relief when Ryeowook started in with an enthusiastic round of fanbabble, dragging Kyuhyun towards the sofa with him. Taemin walked in with a snack tray, eyes apologetic as he went to greet the guests himself. Now he was stuck watching the show, sweating bullets until their company decided to go home. But it was only about an hour or so, how bad could it possibly be?

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~

“In the end it always boils down to class,” Onew emphasized as he flipped sizzling meat. “And you can’t get more of a class difference than a fox demon and a chaebol…”

 

Two hours and seven minutes later, Minho was still trapped.

 

After the show was over, the only way the three excitable men could be consoled was to hit up the nearest restaurant for grilled meat and gamju, and Kyuhyun insisted that Minho and Taemin come along. They complied, Taemin lured out with the promise of free alcohol, and Minho because he didn’t want to appear rude. He made it long enough by staying silent and offering tidbits of conversation that lead the more talkative people into new tangents.  

 

Kyuhyun excused himself to find the restroom, and Minho sent up a mental prayer that once this meal was over that no one would want to hit up a few bars before heading home, as his nerves couldn’t take the strain. He honestly felt like he was skating on very thin ice, and with every minute that passed a new spiderweb crack appeared on the surface.

 

“Here Minho, this looks to be about done.” Onew graciously served him a juicy portion of beef. Minho swiftly picked up, because having a mouthful of food gave him all the more reason not to talk, when he felt a familiar foot sliding up his inner thigh. His fingers slipped, sending the meat tumbling down his shirt and into his lap.

 

“Dammit! I’ll be right back.” Minho sprung to his feet, pointedly ignoring the abashed look on Taemin’s face. He couldn’t remember if he was supposed to blot it gently with cold water or warm, but the sooner he got some soap on it, the better. This night wasn’t turning out well at all, but there was always hope that it would get better before the end.

 

That optimism was smashed to bits when he spotted a familiar face sipping a beer at the bar. Donghae looked a little worse for the wear, his clothes wrinkled and his hair finger-combed. He also wasn’t smiling; in fact, Minho had never seen an expression on his face like this before, a combination of pensive, fretful, and slightly angry. He wavered, trying to decide if he should say hello, when he spotted Kyuhyun coming back from the bathroom, winding his way over to the bar.

 

What happened next seemed to occur in slow motion: Donghae took a long swallow of beer, setting the bottle down with an oddly fluid flick of the wrist. A bright blue flash drive slipped from his sleeve, spinning on the bar for a mere two rotations before coming to a halt. Without missing a beat, Kyuhyun nudged past him, the flash drive disappearing in his wake as though it was never there. Donghae got up, waved at the bartender, and headed towards the exit.

 

When the world sped up again, Minho discovered that he was pressed into an alcove, holding his breath until Kyuhyun walked by without noticing him. That couldn’t have happened. There was no possible way. And even if it did happen, Minho realized with frightening clarity that for the moment, there was nothing he could do about it without drawing himself and those around him right back into the danger he struggled so hard to keep them away from.

 

All the same, flashes of blue stayed with him the rest of the night, even after he finally laid down to get some sleep.

 

 


	15. Sink Or Swim

Donghae sat in the car, awaiting instructions on where to meet Kyuhyun. He wanted nothing more than to make this drop, get home, and take a soak with his favorite rubber duckie. The day had been a drag from beginning to end, and even the after-hours sex with Minwoo seemed more like a chore than a bonus perk to his mission. Still, when Kyuhyun called, Donghae answered. Zhou Mi wanted them working like a well oiled machine, and Donghae would be damned if he was going to be the squeaky gear that brought the whole team down.

 

His phone buzzed; Ryeowook sent him a text. Donghae flipped it open, delighted to see not only the address of a restaurant he knew the way to already, but a small bit of extra conversation. That was the thing he loved about Ryeowook: even in the midst of dire circumstances, he still made everyone around him comfortable. He always made the time on these assignments fly a little bit faster.

 

#You’ll never believe this! Onew’s got a secret~ \\(^3^)/#

 

# oh? spill!#

 

#Promise, no sharing, except with Siwon. I mean it.#

 

#cross my heart what is it already?!?!?!#

 

#Onew’s got himself a boy~friend, some random normal guy. And I think little Taemin’s trying to steal him, can you believe it?!#

 

Donghae’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel. He stared at the message as the icy sensation of a well-aged vintage of anger and bitterness rose like bile in his throat. He hadn’t thought about that name in quite some time, and even now it brought the ghost of a migraine to his temples.

 

#no way, not mr perfect? are you sure?#

 

#He was there when we came over tonight, and he didn’t use the guest bathroom. Even Jjong uses the guest bathroom. And it wasn’t like he was lost; it was natural, like he had every right. Sure sign of intimacy. Plus Taemin’s been flirting with him all night thinking no one’s noticed.#

 

#they must have a death wish hahaha#

 

#(O_O) FISHY! Don’t be horrible! #

 

#sorry. i’ll tell siwon he’ll sort things out he always does#

 

#I knew I could count on you! He’ll be so mad, but better him than Leetuek, right? (>_<);; You’re always good at delivering bad news#

 

#sure see you at the bar in an hour bye#

 

Donghae drove off as fast as he could without breaking too many traffic laws. Years of resentment merged with dark humor. It was like that old saying about people being doomed to repeat history. Long ago, when life hadn’t quite stripped the sparkle out of their eyes, Donghae and Siwon had... something. More than friends with benefits and less than soulmates, it couldn’t be called love because love was not only impractical, but against the rules. Then Siwon took on an apprentice, a clumsy but beautiful boy who was all too eager to please…

 

Donghae snapped out of his antique angst with the buzz of his phone. He was sitting at the bar and he didn’t quite recall even walking in the door. It sent a chill down his spine; letting his mind wander like that could honestly put him in severe danger.  He checked his phone, drop-off in thirty seconds . Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Kyuhyun gliding toward him, walking the fine line between confident and reinforced invisibility that only an Elite could pull off.

 

It was almost like a game, these info drops, to see how fast they could pass things along without making a mistake. Donghae took a drink of beer, set it down and snapped the flash drive out of his sleeve with a crisp, efficient flick of the wrist. And sure enough, Kyuhyun was right on the ball, snatching it off the bar and making it disappear in the blink of an eye.

 

No greetings, no eye contact, nothing to give away that they were even aware of each other’s existence. Kyuhyun would go back to Ryeowook, Donghae would go home, and LSM would get his damn report. Donghae slid off the barstool and walked out the door. If the universe was fair, Kyuhyun would get this thing cracked and Donghae could end this undercover run. Too bad the universe was anything but fair.

 

Well, to everyone except Lee Jinki, it seemed.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*  

 

When it got to be three in the morning and Minho still wasn’t able to get proper sleep, he decided to give up and go into work early, ridiculously early in fact. It took a bit of time to detangle himself from the pile of limbs that occupied the bed, but he managed to do so without waking anyone up. A half hour later he was out the door and on his way to the bus stop. It was funny, but Minho never paid much attention to his surroundings before. Now the color blue seemed to haunt him; everywhere he looked it popped it at him.

 

He made a mental list of the things he knew for certain. Donghae was associated with Kyuhyun, Kyuhyun worked for a Major; logically, Donghae was associated with a Major as well. But Donghae was an accountant, and a barely competent one at that, so why would he be mingling with one of the world’s most powerful underground prostitution rings? Minho softly whacked his head on the window of the bus. This line of thought had too many variables; best to work on a localized level.

 

Donghae knew Kyuhyun. Kyuhyun was a computer guy for Leetuek. Last night, Donghae passed an uncomfortably familiar flash drive to Kyuhyun in a manner that would do a spy movie proud. They didn’t want to be seen. Why? And why was Donghae giving out backfiles of financial spreadsheets? Minho frowned. He didn’t have proof of what was on that drive. After all, just because it was the same color and make as the ones he often used to store backup files on could be a complete coincidence.

 

Minho got so wrapped up in his thoughts that he almost missed his stop. In the first pearlescent light of dawn, the office building seemed to be twice as big, a monolith towering over the piteous mortals scurrying below. Staring up at it made Minho’s heart beat in double-time: _put a halt to your feeble curiosity, peon_ (the gleaming fortress of glass and steel seemed to whisper to him) _and join the other ants before you find yourself crushed by forces you don’t understand_.

 

He stood there for a minute, a hand clenched painfully around his ID badge. Another bus would come in ten minutes. He could call out sick, spend the day reading a book or jogging in the park, and come back to work on Thursday pretending that he saw and knew nothing. But even as the plan unfolded, sentimental memories swept up and blew them away.

 

Minho lifted his head and walked into the building, focused and ready to face the frightening unknown. Any sane man would keep a low profile, stop from meddling in affairs that were far above his head. But Taemin and Jinki never stopped believing in him or his capacity to do the right thing. If that meant that love would make him take an insane risk, so be it.

 

The security guard did a double take when he walked in the door, nearly spilling his coffee in his haste to greet him. Minho smiled and nodded to him, feigning nonchalance as if he showed up to work at five in the morning all the time. A grim determination bolstered his steps as he headed to the elevators; as he stepped inside, he missed the guard making a frantic phone call, staring at the place where he stood with mild panic.

 

The office was eerie this early in the morning, the offices dark and silent in anticipation of another busy day. Minho marched over to his desk, dropping his briefcase on the floor, taking off his suit jacket and rolling up his sleeves. By his calculations he had about an hour and a half before people started pouring in and he had to pretend to work on his normal duties. He turned on the computer, stretched, sat down…and froze.  

 

His seat was already warm.  

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Count of three, we pull.”

 

“Are we pulling on the number three, or is it one, two, three, then pull?”

 

“…you’re not allowed to have blond hair anymore; it’s killing brain cells. On. Three.”

 

“Why do we let you in here again?”

 

“Because you love me and I’m awesome. Right. One. Two. Three.”

 

Onew awoke to the chill of a draft as his blankets were yanked off of his body. The initial instinct to murder the destroyers of his sacred sheet fortress forced him into an upright position. For the briefest moment, when he opened his eyes, the smiling faces of Taemin and Jonghyun staring back at him had video game style crosshairs over each of them. He closed his eyes, counted to three, and promptly flopped onto his belly.

 

“No! You already got twenty minutes of extra sleep, get up!” Taemin pounced on his back legs, playing a loud rolling drum solo on his buttcheeks with his bare hands. Jonghyun added to the ruckus by singing “Old Macdonald had a goat, E-I-E-I-O!” at the top of his lungs. Onew pushed himself up on his forearms, rising from the bed like an ancient creature from the depths of the ocean.

 

“Will kill you both. Use your bones for chopsticks.”

 

“Ah! Morning sunshine.” Jonghyun poked him on the arch of his foot. “C’mon, we have a décor change meeting. Move it. There are three croissants waiting in the kitchen, but if yours gets eaten you’ll only have yourself to blame.” Jonghyun sauntered out of the bedroom, whistling as he walked.

 

Taemin slipped off to one side to let Onew get up properly, already magazine perfect and full of vigor. Onew gave him a mock glare and wrestled him to the bed, covering his face with excessively sloppy wet kisses in retribution.

 

“AAUGH! Morning breath, gross, quit it!”

 

“Nope. You awoke the beast, now feel my lovey-lovey wrath, mwahahaha!” Onew pinned him down, playfully snarling and humping Taemin’s leg until he made loud, embarrassing giggle-moans.

 

“FOR GOD’S SAKE YOU TWO, GET A ROOM.”

 

“WE’RE IN ONE ALREADY, JACKASS.”

 

“…GET A DIFFERENT ONE. AND HURRY UP, WE HAVE WORK TO DO!”

 

“He’s right.” Onew sighed and got out of bed, doing his best to ignore the pout on Taemin’s face. He allowed himself a moment of pride to admire how mussed his boyfriend looked now.

 

After a quick shower he felt much more like a human being. There was a sparkling feeling in his chest, like today was going to be a really great day. He couldn’t put his finger on why, but it seemed like the whole world was just waiting to smile on him.

 

And it seemed to come true when he finally walked into the kitchen. Morning sunlight gleamed warmly on a newly cleaned kitchen. Tea and pastries were laid out already, accompanied by freshly cut fruit. Taemin languidly munched on slices of mango, teasingly licking his fingers clean when he noticed that Onew was watching. Jonghyun was on his cell phone, a small furrow between his eyebrows as he listened to the person on the other end.

 

“Listen.” Jonghyun hung up the call and grabbed his messenger bag. “We’ll have to reschedule for another day. I’ll call, but I gotta run. Sorry.”

 

Onew did an internal dance of joy, but kept it from showing on his face. “Oh. That’s fine. Everything alright?”

 

“Yeah.” Jonghyun hopped into his shoes and hastily opened the door. “See you later.”

 

The minute the door shut, Onew allowed himself to smile. He didn’t mind working on the décor for Camden Road, but there was always a clash between his vision, Taemin’s creativity, and Jonghyun’s idea of a budget that ended up with all of them needing aspirin by the end of the meeting.

 

“Free day!” Taemin threw his arms up in the air without hesitation. “It’s been forever since we’ve had a whole day off at the same time.”

 

“True. Hmm.” Onew took a bite of croissant, savoring the way the buttery crust melted perfectly on his tongue. He licked the tiny crumbs from the corner of his mouth, noting the way Taemin’s eyes darkened. “What do you say we surprise Minho today? We could go kidnap him from work and take him out for lunch.”

 

“I say I like it a lot. We could even let him eat something if there’s enough time.”

 

“Shall we go work up an appetite in the meantime?” The words were barely out of Onew’s mouth before Taemin was up and strewing clothing like a path of breadcrumbs to the bedroom. He laughed and gulped down the rest of his tea, pleased that his prediction of a wonderful day was coming true.

 

Although it was a bit worrying to notice that from the looks of things, Jonghyun hadn’t eaten anything at all.

 

 


	16. Painfully Professional

Jonghyun rushed down the stairs, digging into his pockets for his keys, when a sleek iron grey Volkswagon pulled up to the sidewalk. The driver’s side window rolled down, and a voice that used to haunt Jonghyun’s nightmares floated out on a gentle breeze to assault his ears.

 

“Just the man I hoped to see! You’re looking good, it’s been a while.” Jonghyun swallowed, gritting his teeth against the urge to bolt for his car and pretend he didn’t hear anything. Fucking Shindong was always late with his info; why couldn’t he have called just fifteen minutes earlier? He could’ve been well on his way out of town by now instead of facing the man that made his life a living hell on earth for two years. Jonghyun turned with a solemn expression, feeling like a newbie all over again as he dropped into a crisply polite bow.

 

“Good morning, Siwon.”

 

“Aww, no need for that.” The driver smiled and gestured gracefully towards the passenger side.

 

“Hop in, Jongie. We’ve got a lot to catch up on, don’t we?”

 

Jonghyun never wished for a tractor trailor to suddenly break an axle and crush him beneath several tons of swiftly moving steel more fervently than he did as Siwon meandered down the freeway that afternoon. The two men didn't engage in small talk, for small talk was the folly of people for whom time was not money. Onew's habit of gathering words to use as weapons was a trait he picked up from Siwon back in his trainee days. But where Onew turned his arguments into blades, Siwon treated his like armor-piercing bullets loaded into a silenced high tech sniper rifle.

 

"Pop quiz, Jongie. Who is the Major for our district?" Siwon eased the car into the middle lane, slipping on a pair of designer shades when a burst of sunlight broke through the overcast sky. Jonghyun bit back the curse on the edge of his tongue. There went his escape plan of jumping out of the car and on to the shoulder.

 

"Leeteuk. Sir." He put in just enough of a pause between the two words to skate on the edge of defiance. Siwon pretended not to notice, but Jonghyun caught the fact that the speedometer inched up a few notches before settling down to a legal speed again.

 

"Well done. Next question: who actually runs the district? And here's a hint: if you say Leeteuk I will personally break a bone on your body for every stroke in his name."

 

"You do, sir." How he got the words out without stuttering Jonghyun would never know.

 

"Correct. You're still sharp as a tack, I see. That's good to know." Siwon switched on the turn signal, checking the mirror before making his way into the fast lane. "From some of the reports I've gotten, I was afraid that you might've gone a bit soft in the head. I worried that you might be under the delusion that because I was in Beijing that I wasn't keeping a sharp eye on the people I care about. That's an extremely dangerous assumption to make, Jongie."

 

"Yes, sir." Jonghyun's armpits were growing damp with sweat; his heartbeat thudded in his temples and caused a dull roar in his ears.

 

"One of the main reasons why you didn't get accepted to train as a Deva was because you're far too romantic to be of use in that particular area. Did you know that Jongie? Probably not, but it's one of the notes in your file." Siwon dropped that nugget of information as if access to personnel files was as simple as checking out a book from the local library.

 

"Onew could always look at the big picture, he could focus. He's very good at dealing with people because he's willing to break them down into elements and then twist those elements to his liking. You, on the other hand, you could only focus on one person at a time, and most often to your own detriment. Like now, for instance."

 

"H-how do you mean, sir?" Don't pay attention to me, I'm just a glorified errand boy, I know nothing about anything, only please God don't kill me. The desperate prayer of a man solidly caught in a trap with no options and nowhere to run.

 

"Cute. You haven't changed a bit. I know he turned those pretty brown eyes on you, maybe begged a little? 'Just do me this small favor, just this once, let's keep it a secret between friends', did it sound something like that? How long did you honestly expect to help him hide this outside lover? Hmm? Answer me, Jongie."

 

The words shriveled and dried in Jonghyun's mouth. He normally prided himself on his ability to talk his way out of most situations when he had to, but he knew better than to try that with Siwon. There was no reasoning with someone who existed daily with the stone-cold certainty that they were always right, and was only patiently waiting for the rest of the world to fall in line.

 

"Nothing to say in your own defense? Pity. I thought we were past having lessons about sharing, Jongie, I really did. When I left for China I even told Wookie that I trusted you, that you had finally grown up and understood that outside of work, I DO NOT TOLERATE OTHER PEOPLE PLAYING WITH MY TOYS." If Jonghyun wasn't in the middle of trying not to piss his pants, he would have marveled at the way Siwon could bellow angrily without changing the pleasant demeanor on his face a single iota.

 

"Now we come to the extra credit question, Jongie. Are you paying close attention? Good. What did I make you do to the last sorry son of a bitch who thought he could touch someone who belonged to me without my permission, and exactly how many crates did you have to put him in when it was over? Don't you dare vomit in this car. It's a rental."

*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Clouds began rolling in by the time Minho stopped for his mid-morning coffee break. From the windows near his cubicle, he could see thick, creamy puffs meandering across the sky. They didn't match his mood one bit, and he resented them for it. A day this intense should have a background with horrific rain and booming thunder, not one that could grace the back of a postcard.

 

He turned back to his desk, carefully opening each and every one of the drawers and cleaning them out with methodical precision. Minho wasn't a slob by any means, but the possibility remained that the object he was looking for might be haphazardly buried under an envelope or an accordion file. But just like the four other desk searches prior, the blue flash drive was nowhere to be found.

 

It should have been in the second drawer, where he always kept it specifically so Donghae knew where to find it on Fridays. There was no good reason why it shouldn't be there today. Minho followed a fairly predictable routine, and he never took that drive out on any other day but Friday. He had no reason to.

 

Someone knew that very well.

 

It added fuel to the fire raging in the pit of Minho's stomach since he sat down at his desk that morning and found the first piece of evidence that his office space had been tampered with. The warm seat was a warning bell, especially after he jumped up and briefly touched the chairs in neighboring cubicles and found them cool to the touch. With shaking hands he slid the second drawer open and discovered the flash drive gone from its usual spot. An up-swell of panic fluttered in his chest, but he beat it back.

 

For the rest of the morning Minho projected an aura of single-mindedness, barely stopping to say good morning to his coworkers as they stumbled in, and eschewing the normal chatter as people settled in for the day. He focused on backtracking through his old spreadsheets, going back at least 6 months to files he hadn't looked at in ages, methodically checking the 'last viewed on' dates.

 

A vast majority were modified two weeks ago on a date that made Minho grind his teeth in anger. It proved that his files were tampered with, because he'd called out of work that day. That was the day he finally reunited with Onew and Taemin, a day that should've remained golden and perfect in his memories, now tainted by evidence of sabotage.  Minho didn't want to believe it, it implied that he was being used, that he was a pawn in a game he didn't even know the name of, but worst of all, it implied that he was helpless to do anything about it, a sensation he'd grown to despise over the last few months.

 

And now it was 10:30 in the morning, and Minho found himself facing a terrible decision: go and confront Donghae, asking what exactly he was up to and why he was consorting with such dangerous company, or assume that he really had no allies on his side and try to sort the whole mess out on his own. It was the sort of life-altering choice that no man should have to make before his first cup of coffee.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

"You look a bit better this morning. Did you sleep well?"

 

Donghae paused his game of Bejeweled and looked up to see Minho standing in his cubicle, holding a cup of coffee and a thick file. Donghae stifled a yawn and stretched, gracing Minho with a half-smile.

 

"Morning! Yeah I slept...wait, better than what? I always look great, heh." Minho didn't smile at his joke. His hands tightened on the file until the paper crumpled and creaked in protest. Donghae frowned and pushed out his chair, taking in the subtle but powerful aura of anger radiating from his coworker in poisonous waves. "Did you need anything, Minho?"

 

"Follow me." The demand hung between them like heavy curtain. Minho never demanded anything, ever. Even when he'd obviously had more than enough, his default mode was deferring politeness. It's one of the things that Donghae appreciated about him; it made his job just that much easier. But something must be very wrong if even that veneer had cracks in it. Donghae got to his feet, genial guilelessness etched into his expression, and followed Minho into the nearest conference room without a word.

 

"Have a seat."

 

"What's wrong, Minho? You're acting like you're about to fire me or something."

 

"Or something. Be straight with me Donghae. What did you get me involved in?"

 

"I don't follow."

 

"I saw you and Kyuhyun last night. You gave him my files. I want you to tell me why." Minho slammed the file down,  glaring ferociously at Donghae over the rims of his glasses. After the initial shock of the accusation jolted through him, Donghae couldn't help but think that Minho would make the worst interrogator in the world. He went about everything entirely the wrong way.

 

"Did you put something weird in your coffee this morning? You're not making any sense. Who's Kyuhyun?"

 

"Leetuek's computer advisor, and you know that name, don't try to cover it up now, I saw it in your eyes. You've been a nice guy up til now, so I'm saying right out that if you're trying to set me up for a fall, have the grace to face me. Don't stab me in the back." Minho stood rigidly, his hands clenched into fists at his side.

 

"...I think you need to calm down before you trip into something you can't handle." Donghae turned himself into a slab of stone, peering at Minho with all the cold dispassion of a scientist gazing at a specimen in a tank.

 

"I think you need to evaluate the next course of action you take, Donghae. I've lived my whole life with people telling me what rules to follow and what I can and can't handle." Minho leaned forward, the barest hint of a snarl twisting his lips. "But if you did anything that'll bring harm to me and mine, I will find out once and for all what exactly I am capable of, and so will you."

 

The next thirty seconds slowed to a snail’s pace as a wealth of options laid themselves out in front of him. Of course Minho had a right to be pissed, all things considered. Having him under thumb would be beneficial to his mission as a whole, and from the hints he dropped, Donghae might just have a way to keep him in line. It would be much easier than simply leaping across the table and breaking his fool neck.

 

"Which of them do you love more: Jinki or Taemin?"

 

"How did you-?"

 

"I didn't. Not officially, anyhow, but thank you for confirming. Now hold on just a minute. You asked me to be straight with you, and I genuinely like you enough that I'm willing to do that. But we're going to strike a deal, man to man." If they were in an old-fashioned Mexican standoff, guns drawn with the noonday sun glinting off the steel, both ready and willing to pull the trigger with the slightest twitch, then Minho would've been the first to lower his weapon and drop it down into the dust.

 

"I'm listening."

 

"I’ll let you in on what's going on, and you help me get things under wraps. As a bonus, I help you keep your secret from the Major." Donghae leaned back, crossing his legs as though the answer made no difference to him one way or the other. "Deal or no deal?"

 

"What happens if I say no?"

 

"Are you willing to risk that?"

 

"...I can't."

 

"Thought not." Donghae held out his hand. Minho regarded it in the same manner he would an unfamiliar snake, doing his best to determine from appearance if it was poisonous or not. Donghae kept it out, exercising a wellspring of patience until Minho gave in and shook it.

 

A small part of him cheered. Minho was a genuinely nice guy when all was said and done, and Donghae would've been sad to see him dead. The fact that he was Onew's boytoy was unexpected;  even though Donghae would gladly push that know-it-all, lover-stealing cumrag off of a cliff at the first opportunity, he had enough respect for Minho to uphold his end of the bargain despite his awful taste in men.

 

Thank goodness he hadn't called Siwon with that juicy piece of gossip, after all. Who knew what sorts of trouble that would’ve stirred up?

 

 


	17. Chapter 17

“You’ve reached Onew. I can’t make it to the phone to take your call, but please leave your name and number, and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

 

Beep.

 

*sound of sniffling*

 

“Onew? It’s Wookie. Please don’t hate me, I messed up, and I am so...you don’t know how sorry I am. I didn’t mean to...I thought I was texting Kyuhyun about Minho, and, well we could see you had something going with him and I shouldn’t have been gossiping but I texted Siwon by accident. I’m so so sorry. He’s in town now. I didn’t mention Minho’s name, but he knows now. Please don’t hate me! Oh god...”

 

“End of messages.”

 

Beep.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

“What it boils down to is that Mr. LSM owns a few public, legit companies that do their bookkeeping here, and they’re mysteriously losing money. He doesn’t have to call in private investigators because he’s already got a unit of people like you trained to handle things quietly.”

 

“Yup.”

 

“And he won’t call the cops, because...well.”

 

“Uh huh.”

 

“And I’m the only one who noticed something was wrong?”

 

“You were the first. Even he didn’t realize that he wasn’t getting the revenue that he should until tax time came around and his personal accountants found discrepancies. That’s when I got sent in. I have to figure out where the money went and who’s behind it, and you’re going to help me.”

 

“But you said you thought I was behind it.”

 

“You and Noh. However, it quickly became clear that he had you dancing on puppet strings and blinded with busywork and promotions.”

 

“...aren’t you going to add a ‘no offense’ to that?”

 

“Should I?”

 

Minho took off his glasses. It was nearly lunchtime, and the impulse to drop his head into his hands and weep at the injustices of the world hadn’t abated one bit since he and Donghae started this semi-clandestine meeting.

 

“You’re not stupid, Minho. The fact that you nearly brought a company crumbling with little more than diligence, lack of a sex life and copious amounts of coffee shows that.” Donghae smiled when his compliment-wrapped barb brought that cute little furrow between Minho’s eyebrows.

 

“However, you do lack the guile necessary to deliver the killing blow.” Donghae studied his nails. You know what they call an honest man in a sea of sharks? Dinner. Yes, I took your backup files and handed them over to Kyu. But it wasn’t because I was trying to stab you in the back. Your numbers were, frankly, the only ones I could trust.”

 

“Tell me another lie. If you trusted my numbers, why did you modify them?”

 

Donghae pursed his lips. “I never touched your numbers. I had no reason to. I needed clean reports to give back.”

 

“I looked at the files. Someone went into my spreadsheets on a day I wasn’t even at work and changed things. If it wasn’t you then...” The two men froze at the same time, eyes identically widened. Minho flipped over a sheet of paper, furiously scribbling with his bottom lip bitten between his teeth.

 

_**Noh thinks you’re just an accountant, right????** _

__

_**He’s supposed to.** _

__

_**But if he’s the one screwing with my numbers, then he’s trying to use me, too.** _

 

“We’re going out to lunch. Right now.” Donghae hopped out of his chair, ripping the paper into neat squares and eating them one by one, like ink-stained potato chips. “Meet you at the elevator in five minutes. Don’t keep me waiting!”

*~*~*~*~*~*~

“This place makes me nostalgic. The sights, the smells...breathe in deep, Jongie. Oh, here, let me adjust this for you. That should make it easier.” Siwon stepped back from his work, wiping a glob of Jonghyun’s saliva from his hand onto a towel. The florescent warehouse lights flickered from disuse, adding an unneeded element of horror to the scene.

 

“The last time I was here, there was a food stall a couple blocks away. I hated it, because this sort of thing makes you unreasonably hungry when it should logically ruin your appetite, but I never had the time to run over there and grab a snack. A man could choke to death in the time it took to run there, pay, and run back.”

 

The stool beneath Jonghyun’s feet splintered a little under his weight, and Siwon frowned at it with the air of a painter finding fault with his last brushstroke. He moved the stool slightly to the left, causing Jonghyun to scramble up on his tiptoes to keep his balance.

 

“What do you say, Jjongie? You’ve been hanging there for a good twenty minutes now, and all that’s keeping you from freedom is a little information. I want details, and if you think that you’re so tough now that you can take whatever I can dish out, let me save us both some time.” Siwon turned to the table of gleaming metal instruments, scanning them before picking up a twisted, silvery hook.

 

“You can’t, and you won’t.”

 

*~*~*~*~*~

Onew stepped out of his second shower of the morning to find Taemin looking deathly pale. He had Onew's phone in his shaking hand, but it landed next to a pillow once he realized his lover was in the room. Onew wound up dropping his towel as Taemin practically tackled him.

 

“The Plan-don't panic, promise you won't panic, that's what we made it for right?!” Taemin's grip on his shoulder was so tight it made him wince.

 

“What-?”

 

“Wookie fucking blabbed to Siwon about Minho, he guessed somehow and ran his mouth and now he's in town! We have to go into The Plan, right now!”

 

Onew gently removed himself from Taemin's grasp. “This isn't good, but I'm sure we don't have to implement the Plan just yet. I'll call Siwon and make him believe that this is all just a misunderstanding.”

 

“Misunder-are we talking about the same guy?!” Taemin barged into the closet, tossing his largest suitcase on the bed and haphazardly throwing Minho's clothes into it. “I get it, he was your mentor, but he's not the saint you think he is by a long shot.”

 

“Taemin, stop it. You're overreacting.” Onew pulled on his bathrobe and picked up his phone, noticing that he had several missed calls from Ryowook but only one voicemail.

 

“You aren't reacting enough!” Taemin popped out of the closet just long enough to hurl one of Minho's sneakers at Onew's head. “Of course he's wonderful to you, he loves you. But the people who get in his way get crushed like bugs. Key said that he hired a guy to break in to Wookie's apartment and steal his stuff. Leeteuk thinks it's a client, but everyone knew it was him.”

 

“Gossip and lies, all of it. Siwon's a great guy. He taught me everything I know, and people get jealous-” Onew frowned, the first thread of dangerous insecurity drawing taut in his heart.

 

“Even me?” Taemin dumped an armful of boxers, ties and sock bundles into the suitcase and tried to stuff it closed. “At the Induction Ball, he pulled me aside and said...he said now that I wasn't your apprentice anymore, you wouldn't toy with me for much longer. He said I was sweet, but too bubble-brained to keep you interested for long.” Taemin wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve, and Onew found himself helplessly frozen in place.

 

“You and Minho talk about stuff I've never even heard of all the time. You're both older and smarter than me and that's cool, I don't mind. But you said you'd trust me to protect you, and I'm fucking trying my best to do that right now. If you meant that, if you really did, then please believe me now.”

 

Taemin's tears burned Onew's cheek as he wrapped him up in a giant hug. “I do, Tae, I swear. Look, get a few more things packed for you and I, and I'll call Minho and tell him that we're putting The Plan into action. He could probably get the rest of the day off, and I'll tell Jjong that we'll be spending a few days at Camden Road so he doesn't worry.” Onew kissed Taemin's forehead and quickly hunted for something to put on.

 

The gossip about the break-in was utter nonsense, it had to be. Regardless, he and Siwon would have to have a chat about the way he treated Taemin that night. His former mentor was a bit possessive, sure, but that was no excuse for his behavior. This wasn't an optimal situation of course, but one that was easily solved.

 

However, when Minho didn't answer his work phone, that thread of insecurity began to coil around his heart.

 

 


	18. Time Keeps Ticking Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING FOR GRAPHIC VIOLENCE

“I wish I knew more languages so I could fully express how fucked we are.”

“You're doing just fine, Donghae.” Minho poked at his soggy sandwich. “My theory is that he was changing numbers, uploading the modified spreadsheets on that drive knowing that you would “secretly” get them at the end of the week.”

“Today there was no disk, you showed up early, and then you pulled me off for a 'secret conference'. As the French would say, we are knee deep in merde.” Donghae reached over and casually stole a handful of Minho's potato chips. “I figure we've got a day, maybe two, to get this all figured out before Noh makes a move and hangs us out to dry.”

“But I don't even know where to start. It's like money is being sucked into a black hole.”

“We know where the money isn't, so we can use that to figure out where it is. We know it isn't going anywhere near Noh's personal accounts, we've monitored all of them. None of the other division managers seem to be skimming either. But the fact remains, money is missing. Come on Minho, put those big, sexy brain muscles to use and make me a miracle.”

“Did you just call me sexy?”

“Don't get used to it.”

“Noted.” Minho felt his cell phone vibrate in his pocket. He pulled it out, surprised to see Onew's number on the caller ID. “Excuse me a moment.”

“...Tell Jinki I said hello.” Donghae sipped his water in a deceptively calm manner.

Minho nodded and turned aside to answer. “Hi.”

“I've been calling your office all morning, where are you?!”

“Uh, sorry. I'm out at lunch with someone, everything ok?”

“I have some bad news. Someone guessed about us-”

“Yeah, I already know. Look, I had no idea that Donghae was here playing spy and, um, I guess a couple things slipped. I'm so very sorry-”

“D-Donghae?!” Minho could hear the squeal of tires and Taemin shouting in the background. “How do you know him of all people?!”

“We've been co-workers for a while.” Minho slapped Donghae's hand away from his sandwich, ignoring the protest that he wasn't eating it, anyway. “I only just found out that he was one of yours as well.”

“I can't believe-dammit, skip that, where are you right now?”

“Café Pascucci. What's really going on? You're scaring me.”

“We'll be there in about 10 minutes and we'll explain then. Don't go anywhere, promise me!”

“I promise.”

“And Minho? Please take everything he says with a really big grain of salt.”

“I already do. See you soon.” Minho hung up, feeling the beginning of a migraine sneaking up behind his eyelids.

It only took Onew eight minutes to arrive, sheer luck acting as the only barrier between him and a speeding ticket. Taemin trailed after him, a wilted version of his normally vibrant self. The tension crackled between Onew and Donghae; if looks could kill then they'd undergo mutually assured destruction.

“Onew!” Donghae greeted the pair with a short wave. “It's been a long time. Not long enough, obviously.”

“The feeling's mutual, I assure you. Minho, can you get the next few days off from work?”

“No can do. He's got important work to do at the office. I'm going to be keeping him for a few late nights. You know what that's like, don't you, when you really throw everything you've got into your career?” Donghae followed the veiled insult with a bite of Minho's still untouched sandwich.

“No one asked you, hyung. You're not his boss. Let's get out of here.” Taemin tugged on Minho's arm, but he dragged his feet.

“He's sort of right, I do have important work to do.” Minho put his hand over Taemin's. “We made a deal: if I help him with this um, snag we hit at work, in return he can help us stay under the radar.”

“Then you can call it off.” Onew folded his arms, glaring fiercely at Donghae. “When I said someone guessed, I didn't mean him, I meant Wookie, and he accidentally told Siwon, my old mentor.”

“Siwon knows? Oh, that's just peachy.” Donghae facepalmed. “I need you too much to watch you get killed. He'll be taking the earliest plane he can back over here, and I doubt even your extraordinary oral skills can fix this.”

“Donghae,” Minho put a hand on Taemin's chest to hold him back, keeping his gaze on Donghae. “I know we're stuck in this mess together, but watch what you say to my boyfriend or I will not hesitate to drive a fist into your pretty face. Understand?”

“What, that you Tarzan, him Jane? Read you loud and clear, buddy. Ok ok, damn, put your hand down. We have bigger problems here than your sudden testosterone surge. Maybe we could come to some kind of compromise. Preferably somewhere private.”

Onew stared at Donghae, and he stared back with just as much ferocity. “Meet us at #12 Camden Road around five o'clock. Come alone, and don't breathe a word to anyone about where you're going, I'm serious.”

“You always are. See you later, Minho. I'll tell the office you got sick and headed home.” Donghae took another bite of the sandwich and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “And if I were you, I'd get on the phone with Siwon and start making your excuses fast.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

  
Minho's return to Camden Road was far from welcoming. He lugged the suitcase up the stairs, swearing that Taemin packed every article of clothing he kept at their apartment. Onew kept reassuring him that things would work themselves out, but Minho doubted the words held much weight. Still, this iconic place would be his home for the next few days. When the three of them sat down and came up with this emergency plan, none of them thought it would leave them feeling like hopeless refugees.

The car ride over did little to improve anyone’s mood; after Minho explained to them what was going on, the fact that he had to cooperate with Donghae became set in stone. Neither Onew or Taemin were thrilled with the situation, but they didn’t have any other options.

Taemin lead the way down the French marble staircase this time, winding past the few doors Minho was familiar and stopping between two of them. With a subtle push and slide, the wall gave way to a secret door that Minho wouldn't have noticed at all. Onew had the small room built when he was put in charge of Camden Road after seeing a similar setup at a client's summer chateau.

It was obvious that Onew built this room with safety in mind instead of pleasure. Two of the walls had built-in cupboards and shelving, a small generator sat in a corner collecting dust, the furniture looked like the assemble-by-numbers type found in a lot of college dorms. All in all it was the kind of room that one could hunker down in for an indefinite period of time. They unpacked in silence, the weight of the situation bearing down on all of them.

Minho racked his mind with more fervor than before. He had to prove himself useful to LSM, and time was running out. What better way to get on someone's good side than returning an immense amount of missing money to them? He sat on the side of the bed, pushing his glasses up to the top of his head so he could press the heels of his hands into his eyes.

Taemin half-joked that a certain someone should go make lunch, he was starving in an attempt to lighten the mood. Onew replied that he knew how to get to the kitchen, maid certainly wasn't in his job description. Of course this brought up the mental picture of Onew in a frilly maid's outfit, but a tiny, insane seed of a thought followed soon after.

Maids. Service workers. Custodians. Minho chased after the thought, holding his breath as it blossomed and grew. Both he and Donghae pursued the path of the money in the tracks of the top brass at the company, with the people who moved millions on a daily basis and they came up empty handed.

But the one place neither of them bothered to look was with the people who operated in the background on a daily basis: the people who took out the trash, polished the marble floors, made sure the executive washrooms had soap. Minho couldn't recall seeing a payroll for the janitors in any of his searches, and that was more than a trifle odd.

He jumped up with a shout, grabbing his laptop from his bag and plugging it in to the nearest outlet. He would have to go over months of paperwork, but if his hunch was right, the answer to this elusive puzzle might just be in his grasp after all.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Onew dialed Jjong's number for the fourth time, cursing under his breath as he tapped his foot impatiently. Now that Minho was relatively safe and sound, Onew tried over and over to contact his partner-in-crime with no success. Even after leaving a message he still didn't get a return call, and Jonghyun always called him back right away unless he was in heavy traffic.

Looking back, Siwon coming to town might explain Jonghyun's strange behavior that morning, but it didn't make sense that he would try and hide something that important from him. The telltale click of of the phone being picked up finally occurred on the third ring, but Onew couldn't hear any traffic indicating that Jjong was on the road somewhere and didn't have time to talk.

“It's about time, where are you? We need to talk.”

“Hello there, Jinki.” Siwon's saccharine tones oozed over the line. “It's been quite some time since we last spoke. You're doing well, I trust. Ah, excuse me for picking up his phone, but Jongie can't talk right now.”

“Hnng-!” Onew clapped a hand over his mouth to cut off the choked sound pressing against his lips. “Ahem, I, that is, I just found out you got in town-”

“And the first person you call is your court jester? I'm hurt, Jinki, I really am. No matter. Listen, I wanted to have a few words with you. Could you find your way down to Brightside in about an hour? You remember where that is, right? I'll meet you there, and when we finish talking you can collect your...friend.”

The line went dead as Onew racked his brain to remember if Siwon always said “friend” so that it sounded like “slime mold”. He looked over his shoulder; Minho typed furiously on his computer while Taemin curled up in a chair with his earbuds in and a manga in his hands. If he took either of them with him, this delicate situation would take a drastic turn for the worst.

He didn't sneak out technically; he simply departed very quietly and left a note stating that he'd be back soon, bringing Jonghyun with him. If his foot was a trifle heavy on the gas, it wasn't because he was overly worried about Jonghyun's safety, but because Siwon hated when people were late for appointments.

Onew arrived at the Brightside docks with ten minutes to spare. As he pulled up he saw Siwon waiting in front of a ddubokki stand, casually nibbling on the spicy treat. Siwon smiled and waved when he noticed Onew's car, tossing the rest of the food in a nearby trash can and strolling over to the passenger side.

“Very timely, I'm pleased! And I'm sure Jonghyun will appreciate your punctuality as well.” Siwon climbed in and gave Onew a one-armed hug before buckling in. “You're looking good, I see you've been hitting the gym regularly.”

“I, yes, but you said you were with Jjong.” Onew found himself tripping over his words, much to his dismay. Siwon checked his reflection in the overhead mirror, licking a stray dab of sauce from his upper lip before answering.

“At the time, I was. Head down that way and make a left.” Siwon settled back into the seat with the falsely relaxed air of a lion surveying a herd of gazelle. Onew followed his instructions, his palms growing sweaty as he regressed back to his awkward teenage years. He could tell when Siwon was displeased from the amount of effort he put into appearing nonchalant.

After a number of twists and turns they came upon a section of empty warehouses in a state of disrepair from disuse. Onew steeled his determination and prepared his explanations, but they flew out of his head when Siwon grasped his chin in his hand and studied him with narrowed eyes.

“Why are the pretty ones always so cruel?” Siwon sighed softly, but his grip tightened.

“Cruel? I'm not-”

“Oh, you are Jinki, believe me. I spent years molding you, helping you grow, shielding you from the world and sticking my neck out for you, and you turn around and stab me in the back.” He pulled Onew forward, ignoring his struggles to escape as if they were of little consequence. “Was it the thought of power that turned you? I've heard the whispers that you might be next in line for Leeteuk's position. I was proud, of course, but if this idea of of being in charge is causing you to make reckless choices, I'm afraid I'm going to have to vote against it.”

Siwon let go as suddenly as he grabbed on; while Jinki rubbed his jaw Siwon unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car. Onew followed after him, desperately rambling about how this was all a misunderstanding, just an idle piece of gossip that got out of hand. His stream of words dried up like a snowball in the desert when Siwon pulled open the warehouse door and revealed Jonghyun.

He was tied up naked to one of the columns like a dog, a choke collar made of rough rope around his neck to keep him from escaping. Not that he'd be able to run anywhere with his leg snapped at an unnatural angle. His hands and feet were a bloody mess, the nails ripped off or left barely dangling on. Welts, bruises and cuts covered his entire body, but there was a dried riverbed of blood around his mouth. He didn't lift his head when the afternoon sunlight hit his face; instead he cringed and tried to curl in around himself.

It took Onew a full minute to realize that the raw high-pitched screams were coming from his mouth.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Taemin quit his third round of shadowboxing to grab a bottle of water from the fridge. The clock on the wall mocked him, a few minutes ago he thought he saw it tick backwards just to spite him. He checked his cell, feeling satisfied when it proved that the clock actually was three minutes slow. Instead of fixing it, he left it hanging on the wall just in case Jinki had it set incorrectly on purpose.

The note Jinki left fluttered in a passing draft. Taemin discovered it forty minutes ago when he looked up from his manga and noticed that the other man was gone. Minho noted his absence with a nod and a grunt, not even looking up from the harsh glare of his laptop. Taemin checked his phone once again in case he missed a call, turning it this way and that to ensure that he had full signal. All of the bars were in place; Taemin didn't know if that made him feel better or worse.

Staying here in pins and needles was driving him up the wall. He caved in and called Jinki, scowling when he didn't get an answer. Jonghyun's still wasn't picking up his phone, and if they were together, like the note claimed, one of them should be answering and trying to reassure him that everything was just fine.

“Minho?” Taemin waited until he bothered to look up before continuing. “I'm going out for a little fresh air, I'm not going far and I'll be right back.” Minho adjusted his glasses and gave him a tired smile.

“Fine. Sorry I'm not being good company-”

“But you're busy saving the world. I get it, this is super important.” Taemin kissed him on the forehead. “Keep being brilliant. I'm just getting antsy.”

Taemin remembered to lock the door behind him when he left, and he meandered down the street with no particular destination in mind. He checked his phone just to make sure that it would ring and vibrate should a call come in. There were no new text messages either, and the feeling that was creeping up on him was far too similar to that awful graduation night for his liking.

That persistent paranoia dogged at his heels for five whole blocks before he called assistance and started compiling a list of local hospitals, just in case that scary thought had any basis in reality.

  
*~*~*~*~*~

  
Siwon knocked Onew to the floor, but just barely. His former protegee got back to his feet quickly and shoulder checked him, sending both of them to the ground. After the initial shock of seeing Jjong in the state he was in, Siwon barely got out a full sentence before Onew flew into a rage. Siwon was the better fighter, but he struggled against the blind, berserk fury that fueled Onew's surge of strength.

Blood-splattered tools clanged and skidded along the concrete floor as the two men knocked over the small cart they rested on. Onew got the upper hand for a moment and straddled Siwon's chest, pummeling him with hammer-like blows on his face and chest. Siwon reached out blindly until his hand closed around something sharp; only a very lucky backwards dodge kept Onew from getting a slit throat.

Sadly, that was the opening that Siwon was looking for. He bucked Onew off of him and pounced, swiftly reversing their positions. In an instant his hands were wrapped around Onew's throat, squeezing so tightly that it only took a handful of seconds for Onew's face to turn an unhealthy shade of burgundy. Onew kicked and struggled, but Siwon was sitting far too high up on his chest for it to do any good.

In the shadows of his mind, Onew recalled the last time Siwon looked down at him like this: they were in one of the studios practicing sense memory of heat, and Siwon smiled at him with an expression of pride and approval. Now there was only tranquil insanity and murderous intent...and a blade sliding across his throat.

Onew could only stare, spots dancing in front of his eyes, as a scalding spurt of blood spurted out of Siwon's jugular and rained down on him. He let go of Onew's throat to clutch at his own, unresisting when Onew pushed him off to the side.

Onew greedily sucked in huge gulps of oxygen, sitting up to see Jonghyun next to him on all fours, stabbing at any part of Siwon he could reach with a scalpel and screaming gibberish like a tortured, dying animal. It was as though he was cursing to Siwon in a foreign language that Onew didn't recognize, and when got a glimpse of Jonghyun's mouth, he knew why.

Not only had Siwon broken several of his teeth, but he'd cut out Jonghyun's tongue as well.

Once the urge to faint passed, Onew gathered enough wits to gently but firmly pull Jonghyun away from Siwon. His lungs burned, the whole world felt upside down and backwards, and he thought he might vomit any second, but that didn't matter at the moment. Jonghyun was alive, but barely, and from the violent way he was shaking he wouldn't last much longer without immediate medical attention. Onew staggered to his feet, picking Jonghyun up the same way he did back when they were a couple of stupid kids with big dreams, and carrying him to the car.

He didn't look back at Siwon once.

  
*~*~*~*~*~*~

  
“You're kidding. You actually figured it out?!”

“It's all very clever, you see.” Minho pushed his glasses up with the tip of his finger. “The custodians at the company are all hired from an outside company, but that company is a subsidiary of another company that we bought out two years ago.”

“Uh huh.” Donghae stared at the screen, trying to make sense of the multiple highlighted sections Minho made in the separate columns.

“The amount that the ‘outside’ company claims to pay the janitors and what they actually pay are two different things. Meanwhile the rest of the money flows back into the pockets of Noh and his cronies in 'legitimate' ways, like end of the year bonuses and all expense paid trips. It shows up to our auditors as legal profit...because I'm the only one who noticed that we were charging customers for a service that didn't exist.”

“That was your complicated, boring way of saying we caught the fucker, right?”

“Yes, Donghae. We've got him by the short hairs.” Minho got to work making a backup copy of his work when Taemin exploded into the room.

“You!” Taemin pointed at a mildly startled Donghae, “Get us over to KyungHee Medical! I finally got through to Jinki, he said he was there with Jjong and it was bad but he can't talk about it over the phone- MINHO WHY ARE YOU STILL SITTING DOWN-I pulled up directions, Jinki wants you there too. ”

“Me? What does-MINHO SLOW DOWN, NOT ALL OF US WERE BLESSED WITH LONG LEGS-what does he want with me?”

“All he said was they needed cleanup.”

“...fucking hell.”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~

The paper gowns in the ICU made Jjong appear smaller then he actually was. Onew made the occasional short joke just to ruffle his feathers, but he would never in a million years call Jjong small. He was larger than life, an elemental force that swept across the earth like the first spring rains. Here, on this thin gurney encompassed by machines and wires, Jjong looked like someone who would break, and Onew now knew firsthand that was far from true.

“You lazy bum. You can't rest here forever, we've got things to plan still, remember? You skipped out on our meeting. You've got my blood running in your veins now, but that's no excuse for oversleeping.” Jjong's eyes remained as closed as they were on the frantic car ride over. Onew poked at the tray of hospital food as a distraction from the erratic monitor sounds.

“And I was thinking about that trip to Africa, remember that? Way back when, we said we'd go so you could work on your music. We can afford it now.” He took Jjong's hand, alarmed to feel how cold and clammy it was.

“But you have to get better; you can't outrun lions on a pair of crutches. Jjong? Wake up. Please. I'll do whatever you want me to.”

He had to wonder if this was a measure of just how much Jonghyun suffered on his account. Onew had a general idea of what Auxiliaries did, and he knew that unpleasant duties were part of the job description. But like returning to a smoggy city after a year in the mountains, Onew was gagging from the side effects of something he used to ignore. Comparatively, what Jjong did to Minho was boyish roughhousing.

“They've got steamed cabbage in the cafeteria. Not as good as garden fresh though, get it? Baaaah.”

What he intended to be a goat sound turned into a miserable bout of sobbing. This was simply too much to take, and the last reserves if his inner strength hit the bottom of the barrel. A familiar pair of hands landed on his shoulders and massaged them, as two more gently wiped the tears from his face.

No one said anything, there was really nothing that could be said for a situation like this. Onew found himself strangely grateful that Donghae helped him finish dealing with the police, even though he knew it wasn't a favor for him, but simply a matter of The Way Things Were Done.

Minho leaned over and kissed him, whispering that he would be back in a few hours. Taemin crumpled up the tissue and asked if he wanted tea . Onew nodded mutely, hoping to use the brief moment alone with Jjong to pull himself together. Things didn't go according to plan; a few minutes later Onew found himself sobbing all over again from surprise and relief.

Onew squeezed his hand twice, a non-verbal apology, and Jjong squeezed back.


	19. Brothers Of The Heart

Two cups of Gòngjú tea rested untouched on the table, yellow petals of chrysanthemum floating lazily on the surface. Minho stared into its depths as if it could predict the future, but all the tea revealed was his own hazy, golden reflection. LSM's eyes were half-closed, shutting off any and all emotional display. It made Minho all the more nervous: the silence between them felt like quicksand dragging him to a murky fate. LSM reached for his cup and Minho flinched; it was impossible for him to tell if the older man noticed the act of weakness or not.

 

“Where are you laying your bets?” LSM sipped delicately at the steaming brew. Minho blinked, shifting in his chair as he contemplated an appropriate response. “I've found that Onew has a habit of surprising me. Usually they're pleasant ones.”

 

“Whatever he decides to do, I'll stand by that choice.” Minho wrapped his hands around his cup, allowing the warmth to permeate his chilled skin. “I trust him to make the right choice.”

 

“Peculiar choice of words, Mr. Choi. They're also extremely vague; I was given the impression that you were indelibly honest.”

 

“And I still am sir. You gave him two choices designed to hurt him, but even if he's in pain I know he'll stand tall.”

 

“Ah.” LSM graced him with a dignified smile, taking another sip of tea. “You do know him well. You should then understand why it is imperative he remain with us. I am not a sadistic man by nature, Mr. Choi, but I'm shrewd.”

 

“And you think Onew and Taemin are good business investments.” Minho couldn't cover the note of derisive sarcasm in his voice. LSM opened his eyes, fixing him with a glare that could peel wallpaper. Minho felt oddly proud of the fact that he didn't back down from the non-verbal challenge.

 

“In my years I've learned that power is fleeting, and people are slow to change. The Deva have become an abandoned home: the wood is rotted, but the foundation is solid. I want to return this institution to its former glory, but it will take younger, smarter men to see it through.”

 

Minho forced a swallow of tea past the knot in his throat. He couldn't think of anything to say, fortunately the fox-faced woman knocked politely and entered the room holding LSM's cellphone. She placed the phone on the table between the two men, switching it to speakerphone mode.

 

“Onew, I assume you've come to a decision?”

 

“I have, yes Sir.” Minho gripped both hands on his knees. “We both want to stay. Taemin will work off his debt properly in the course of 4 years, and if you still see fit to promote me, I will fulfill my duties to the best of my abilities during that time.”

 

Pity flashed over LSM's expression. “Mmm. I'll have the formal contract faxed over. Do you have anything else to say?”

 

“...no Sir. Thank you, Sir.”

 

Minho thought he heard remorse in Onew's voice, but it was hard to hear over the sound of his heart breaking.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Three months later...

 

“Wipe your hands before you use that, you'll make the keyboard greasy.”

 

~Yes mom. Whatever you say mom.~ Jonghyun pecked out the retort with one finger before wiping his hands on a napkin. Onew rolled his eyes and went back to his Korean to Swahili translation book.

 

“Here's a good one to know: 'fisi ni chasing basi!' I think that's how you pronounce it.”

 

~What does that mean?~

 

“Hyenas are chasing the bus.”

 

Jonghyun laughed at that one, but the sound was alien and garbled, as if someone took a recording of his mirth and played it backwards. Onew hoped he didn't notice; Jonghyun rarely laughed these days. Then again, neither did Taemin. There were days Onew thought he smiled enough for all three of them to make up for it.

 

~Has he called you yet?~

 

“And this is important too,” Onew continued as if he hadn't read the question. “Um, 'Nileteeni mvinyo wako bora!', which means bring me your best wine.”

 

~How do you say “Put it on that bastard's tab, he's buying”?~ Jonghyun smirked, then gasped when Onew threw a pillow at his face. ~Watch it! You can't treat me this way, I'm injured!~

 

Onew was sure he only meant it as a joke, but it sobered him faster than an unexpected cold shower. Jonghyun still lay in a hospital bed, wires attached to his arm and bandages wrapped around his body. Most of the superficial bruises healed, but in his imagination the ugly marks were still there, fresh as the day they were made.

 

Jonghyun tapped on the metal bed rail. ~I thought I told you to stop looking so damn sad in front of me. Enjoy the peace and quiet while you can, because after the surgery I'm going to read phone books out loud just for fun.~

 

“...why'd you do it?” It wasn't what Onew meant to say at all, but now that it was out in the open there was no taking it back. They never discussed what happened that day, even when Jonghyun was well enough to use a method of communication. Jonghyun rested his fingers on the keyboard; Onew frantically waved his hands in front of his body, hoping Jonghyun misunderstood the question.

 

~Because you chose him over me.~ Onew read the sentence twice before he opened his mouth to protest, but Jonghyun laid a finger over his lips in an unmistakable signal to stay quiet. He went back to typing, the words flowing furiously from his fingertips, only pausing once in a while to wipe rebellious tears from his eyes.

 

~We've been together a long time. You know all my secrets and I thought I knew yours, too, because we have something special. Really special. Minho was the first time you ever hid anything from me ever and I didn't like that, I didn't like him. The second he became more than just a client it made me sick inside, because I could handle other people touching you, but not your heart. Get it?

 

It didn't matter to me what you did or who you saw because I knew I was number one. Siwon knew it too, that's why he tormented me all those years. He didn't love you, he just loved the attention, and being a mentor ensured that he got lots of it. Taemin doesn't count. He takes up space in everyone's heart, no one can fight that, and he never tried to push me out.

Minho did. He just waltzed right in without even trying and swept you off your damn feet, and he was tall and smart and perfect for you.

 

And there were times when he was around where you went for whole hours at a time without looking at me once, but you were happy so what could I do? I protected you the best way I knew how, and nothing was gonna change that, NOTHING. I don't ever want your pity I couldn't stand that I just want you to see me. See me. I'm not tall or super smart and I can't even sweep a floor, but no one will ever love you as much as I do...~

 

Onew read the passage slowly, his expression neutral except for his watery eyes. He didn't say a word. Instead, he picked up his book, flipped through it, and highlighted a passage in neon yellow. He held the page up so that Jonghyun could read it, biting his lip to ensure that he didn't say anything foolish.

 

Jonghyun sniffled and read, bursting into muffled sobs when Onew placed the softest of kisses on his forehead.

 

“Sisi ni ndugu wa moyo. Translation: We are brothers of the heart.”

 

 


	20. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! Finally done! Thanks for sticking with me through the delays and setbacks, I hope you enjoyed the story. Please leave a comment, even if it's just rambling. Feedback feeds the author. *nodnod*

_**Three years and seven months later...** _

 

The silver was polished, fresh fruit gleamed like jewels in antique Wedgewood bowls, and a bottle of a dreadfully expensive French vintage was decanted so it could breathe. The intimate table setting for two looked like it could grace the cover of a magazine.

 

It was all wrong.

 

“Jino, where does a shrimp fork go?” Taemin spoke to his apprentice without looking at him, casually crossing his arms to keep himself from correcting the mistake himself. Jino blanched, scanning the table with wide eyes. Having Onew sitting there probably made Jino nervous as hell; this was the fifth silly mistake he'd made in the two hours the Major had been there.

 

To his credit, Onew looked as unruffled as ever, gazing at Jino with the bemused expression one makes watching a colt try to walk for the first time. Taemin, on the other hand, struggled to remain calm and collected. Jino was a great guy; however, Taemin still felt that he had to prove himself as good of a mentor as Onew. An apprentice who sometimes stumbled over formal Korean or confused jasmine and darjeeling tea didn't help him reach that goal.

 

“Sorry. I thought, um. Here?” Jino quickly switched the shrimp fork with the dessert fork. Taemin closed his eyes with a tiny sigh.

 

“We both need a break. Ten minutes, and we'll try again.” Taemin patted Jino on the shoulder, sending him off with a tired smile. Onew graciously waited until Jino was out of earshot before chuckling to himself.

 

“Oh shutup. I can feel you judging me from here.”

 

“I'm just observing, Taemin. There's no need to get cranky, he's doing fine.”

 

“Fine?” Taemin held up a linen napkin. “I ask him to fold a swan, and instead I get an origami crane. I tell him to make a coffee with two sugars, so he uses white and brown. Why did you let me talk you into letting me do this?”

 

Onew got up and gave Taemin a brief hug. “Give him time. He'll shock you one day, I'm sure of it. Besides, if you kick him out, Jjong will come down to my office and make a solid effort to annoy me to death. You wouldn't do that to me, would you?”

 

“Pshh.” Taemin rolled his eyes, but he relaxed into the embrace and stopped scowling. “I'll think of a way to help Jino learn. Maybe I can make him flash cards.”

 

“There's the man I love,” Onew crooned, jumping slightly when the doorbell rang. Taemin frowned, checking his watch. “Did you have a customer scheduled?”

 

“No, not for a few days I'm sure.” Taemin brushed his clothes and opened the door, his professional smile in place as soon as he turned the knob. Onew remained in the sitting room, but when he didn't hear anything after a few minutes he went to make sure everything was alright.

 

The last thing he expected to see was Taemin wrapped around a man like a honeysuckle vine, one hand twisted and entangled in the stranger's hair. Onew almost shouted until he saw the potted apple tree sitting at the man's feet. It was little more than a sapling, only a few years old, but it was strong and well cared for.

 

Taemin finally pulled away, sporting the brightest smile he'd worn in far too long. Onew was rooted to the spot. Minho had changed quite a bit in the last few years: his hair was much shorter, glasses replaced by contacts, and his fashion looked more boutique than bargain basement. But audacious hope and ferocious adoration still burned blazing hot in his eyes, and it knocked Onew for a complete loop.

 

Taking Taemin with him, Minho took two steps forward, stopped, and held out his hand. Three apple seeds sat in his palm, heedless of the tears they shed, the days that moved glacier slow, or the nights they ached in their dreaming. Onew lifted his eyes to Minho's chest, watching it rise and fall with a forced steadiness.

 

Onew knocked the seeds to the ground, taking great satisfaction in hearing them crunch under his shoes as he finally welcomed his soulmate home.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> [*] From Shakespeare's Midsummer Night's Dream
> 
> This completed work has been sitting on Livejournal for ages, and I had thoughts of making it into an original work, but I decided that I wanted to preserve what I have here since it represents a precious period of time in the SHINee fandom for me. I've added a few things here and there and tried to fix a couple mistakes, but it's otherwise the same as it was.
> 
> Since they just celebrated their 6th anniversary (wow, already?!) I thought it'd be a good idea to post it here. I aim to post a new chapter every couple days or so; I'll also update the tags as I go.


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